


ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY... OVER ME.

by Vyvrik



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Authority Challenge, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyvrik/pseuds/Vyvrik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras likes the look of his mum's new man... <br/>And promptly sets about trying to forget he exists.</p>
<p>Written for the prompt challenge "Authority."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BEGINNING

.................

BEGINNING.  
__________

 

Grantaire stopped dead in his tracks as he noisily reached the bottom of the stairs, seeing the tv flickering away in the corner and cringing inwardly at the creak of his sturdy frame taking the final step into the room. The occupant of the couch was clearly alerted to his presence but the clink of metal against porcelain only paused momentarily before continuing again as if nothing had happened, without even looking around. 

Shit, had someone been home the whole time? Grantaire was mortified, thinking back to the night before and desperately trying to remember what had happened when they’d arrived, knowing full well how vocal Sylvie could be in the throes of passion, leaving him now feeling pretty embarrassed to think they'd been overheard... 

The clink of the spoon in the cereal bowl continued methodically and Grantaire cleared his throat, raking a hand through his as yet un-brushed head of wayward black curls in a vain attempt to tame them somewhat and give himself at least the appearance of being presentable. Venturing hesitantly forward, catching a glimpse of 5oclock shadow and bed-hair more of a mess than his own, he stepped toward the figure slumped on the couch, all bright, bleach blonde spiked faux hawk falling over his eyes and close cropped black sides all at once. 

What the fuck, she never mentioned a house-mate... And for a moment a pang of jealousy swept through him as he advanced, adopting as casual a manner as possible in what was obviously someone else's house. Someone else's house that he'd thought he was alone in. 

“Hey...” 

“Don't worry, no one heard a thing last night, I was out getting laid myself, only just got home.” 

Well, that cleared that up, and hello to you too Grantaire thought, as the disinterested voice continued, 

“Coffee’s in the pot, cereal and bread in the pantry cupboard. Help yourself. Everyone else does.” 

Grantaire was thrown by the delivery of the deadpanned greeting, if you could call it that, with it being made perfectly clear to Grantaire that his presence came as no surprise. So maybe Sylvie had told this guy about him? This time, instead of jealousy, he felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him that it appeared he was expected, or at the very least, not exactly unexpected. 

“So uh, sorry to intrude...” he began, tentatively opening cupboards until he found a mug and pouring himself a bowl of CocoPops, “Did Sylvie warn you I was coming?” 

“No, Sylvie did not. But it's not the first time and I dare say it won't be the last. The question is, did she warn you?” 

All this was delivered with bored nonchalance as he picked up the tv remote and flicked steadily through the channels, not once turning around to even look at Grantaire who stood there nursing a mug of coffee awkwardly, leaning against the kitchen counter. Grantaire was trying to get his head around exactly what this strange man was getting at, he wished he'd stop being so cryptic and just be straight with him. 

“Er, warn me about what?” 

But the young man changed the subject immediately, “So, you're Sylvie’s newest conquest now I take it?” 

“Well, it's been a while now I guess...” 

“Oh really?” 

Grantaire could hear the surprise in his tone at that, “Uh, ye-es...” Who the fuck was this guy giving him the spanish inquisition? “A few months, or so...” 

“Right.” 

“Yes...” 

“And do you like her?” 

“Well yeah, I wouldn't be here otherwise,” 

“Okay. And where did you meet?” 

Grantaire briefly wondered why he was just answering every question so readily, but reminded himself that it wasn’t his house, and he was lucky not to have been just kicked out. 

“Work. St Barts...” but I guess you know where she works... he thought to himself as the questioning continued, 

“And what exactly is it you do at the hospital then?” 

“Well, I uh, I'm still in training but uh...” 

“Let me guess...” he interrupted sarcastically, “Plastic surgeon? Psychiatrist or...” and with an exasperated sigh he turned briefly from the tv, his eyes lingering clearly longer than he intended or anticipated, raking over Grantaire’s favourable physique, “...brain surgeon?” 

He spat out the last word with a scowl on his face in an attempt to cover up the uncomfortable pause, and Grantaire had the presence of mind to take offence at such a thinly veiled insult. But he bit back his retort under sufferance, “Well, I'm a doctor, yes.” He puffed himself up to his full height for a second as a defensive mix of testosterone and pride coursed through his body. 

“Really?” 

At this the platinum head spun round again, eyes previously not deeming him worthy of attention now narrowed and fixed on him with interest, releasing a small hmph of surprise as they made eye contact for the first time. 

Grantaire felt decidedly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, the incredibly intense gaze in the kohl rimmed blue orbs boring holes right through him, before noticing the striking resemblance to his absent girlfriend, wondering if perhaps this was her brother. Which would explain his slightly overprotective questioning, 

“Yes, in casualty, Sylvie is my consultant. But I will, eventually, be in cardiology... Eventually.” 

“Hm.” After seemingly giving him the once over he went back to the tv, putting his feet up on the coffee table and fishing for the remote, “Sorry, I just assumed you were gonna be another sugar-daddy. I wasn't expecting a toy-boy. You can hardly blame me, makes a change.” 

“Oh, okay..." Well that was news to Grantaire for starters. "So uh, how do you know her? Are you her housemate or something?” 

“Well, in a sense I guess you could say that...” He got up, picking up his empty bowl from the table, “I'm her son.” 

He glanced wryly at Grantaire as he passed into the kitchen, rinsing his bowl and refilling his coffee calm as you please, as if he hadn't just dropped the world’s biggest bombshell on Grantaire’s head. 

What the fuck? 

How come she never told him she had a kid? Especially one so fucking old? How old is he anyway? She must have had him incredibly young... unless she was lying about her age... and what else hasn’t she told him? How many other kids does she have floating around? While he went into it knowing he was dating an older woman, he’d actually expected something like this, well, slightly younger perhaps, but she’d never said a word in the months they’d been seeing each other so he just assumed there was nothing to tell, how wrong he was! And now what? She just left him here, the first time she’d asked him back to her place, only to leave for work first thing in the morning and dump this on him to deal with by himself? Great. 

Grantaire knew he was being watched as the multitude of thoughts played themselves out across his features and he realised Sylvie’s son, _son, fucking hell,_ appeared to recognise the look on his face, or at least could read his mind... he did seem like he’d been in this position before, which no doubt sucked, hence the scepticism and deadpan tone and overall nonchalant demeanour... But just as he was wondering which questions to ask first, he spoke up again, 

“Don't worry, I’m the only thing she hasn’t told you about, as usual, everything else is true, as usual...” he sighed, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the sink as he surveyed Grantaire with interest, “So, now this is the part where we find out how long you stick around, right?”

Grantaire was struggling to find the words, any words, let alone ones that wouldn’t offend this jaded kid, to express how pissed off he was that she’d just dumped this on him like that. But again, said kid seemed to read his mind, 

“You pissed at her now?” 

“Well, yes, it’s a pretty fucking lousy thing to do...” 

“It’s how she always plays it.” 

“What, just brings random men home to meet you, see how they react to gauge whether or not they’re a keeper?”

“Yep. Pretty much.”

This kid was far too worldly for his own good. “That’s a shitty thing to do to you!” 

“Yeah, well, whatever...” he just shrugged, looking slightly awkward for the first time and busied himself getting another bowl of cereal, “It’s just the way it’s always been.”

Grantaire was quiet, digesting this new piece of information and feeling decidedly sorry for the kid, ( _kid?_ he stood just watching him, taking in the nose ring and labrette, the ripped and faded skinny black jeans, studded metal belt and faded black sonic youth t-shirt complete with suspicious stains on the front. He watched the forward flop of his fringe as he bent over the sink, his bleach blond hair seemingly in his face on purpose as he constantly swept it back from his forehead.

Accepting the offer of the cereal box to top up his own bowl and re-filling the empty mug proffered in his direction, Grantaire handed him his coffee, watching as his bare feet padded their way back to the couch and he tucked his long legs beneath him.

Refilling his own coffee, Grantaire tentatively joined him in the living room, “So, uh, I'll just finish up here and be out of your hair then,” 

“Nah mate, you’re alright. It’s not for me to say. She’s put the ball in your court and it’s entirely your call. It all depends on how much you like my mother...”

“Well I...”

“You like her but this changes everything? You just planned on something easy, you’re not in it for a kid? I know you weren't expecting me.”

“No but...”

“It’s okay, I know everything you’re going to say, I’ve heard it all before, believe me. But before you go making any rash decisions, you don't have to worry about me, you won’t even know I’m here, if it’s one thing I know it’s how to make myself scarce, I won't get in the way... if that’s what’s bugging you.”

“Right, I mean, no, no it’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” 

“Of course.”

“Whatever...” he rolled his eyes, 

“So uh,” He suddenly realised he hadn't even introduced himself, "God where are my manners, I'm so sorry," he stuck out his hand, "Grantaire."

“Enjolras.” 

They continued sitting in a relatively awkward silence, watching cartoons, eating CocoPops and asking the odd question, until Enjolras’ phone rang somewhere in the depths of his pocket, 

“Hello mother...” he drawled, looking at Grantaire and rolling his eyes, already familiar with the path the phone call would take, “Yes actually, Grantaire is still here as a matter of fact... no I’m not joking, he’s right here next to me... yeah, okay... yeah... bye.” 

He shot a sidelong glance at Grantaire who in turn was looking at him out the corner of his eye, “Well, that hasn’t happened before...” 

“What?” 

“I’m not supposed to tell you how ecstatic she was to hear about us playing happy families...” 

“Right...” 

“You can still change your mind you know...” 

“Enjolras, if you want me to go...” 

“It’s okay, just... well, you know, she doesn’t want to get her hopes up...” 

Grantaire had no idea what he was supposed to do in such a random situation, needless to say he’d never found himself in one like it before, he nodded, nervous for some reason, “And what about you?” 

Enjolras couldn't hide his surprise, his face initially seeming to say ‘what about me?’ as if that was never something he was allowed to contemplate before, being included in the equation... and he turned, looking at him properly for the first time, really looking, taking him all in with a look on his face that Grantaire couldn’t read at all, before his expression changed completely, 

“So this is the part, Grantaire, where I say the whole ‘you hurt my mum I hurt you’ bit... yeah?” 

Grantaire actually felt uncomfortable for a split second under such intense scrutiny, before reminding himself it was just a kid being protective of his mum, _(mum, fuck,)_ and instantly rushed to assure him he wouldn't ever do anything like that. 

“Calm down, fuck, I believe you. How old are you anyway? You’re not like all the others... At all.” 

“How old are you?” 

“17...” 

“24...” 

“Wow, way younger, she’s usually trying to land me a ‘father-figure’,” Enjolras laughed wryly, “And you’re a doctor?” 

“Well, yes...” 

“So it seems she’s gone more for the ‘positive role model’ thing this time then. You know she’s 35, right?” 

“Uhh...” 

“Hm, thought as much. Where is she anyway?” 

“Work.” 

Enjolras snorted derisively, “Well played mother, she obviously thought that this, if you actually stick around, is the part where you and I get to know each other.” 

And the awkwardness of the forced situation was not lost on either of them, and although both were free to get up and go at any time, they sat still for a while, neither knowing what to say. Lapsing into a silence only broken by the constant hum of the tv in the background and their bowls of snap crackle and pop, Grantaire found his coffee cup particularly interesting as he stared at it in hope of inspiration. Anything poignant to say would be good, but he had nothing, turning his attention instead to Enjolras switching channels at an alarming rate before finally settling, flicking between This Morning with Holly and Phil and yesterday's coverage of Glastonbury. 

The silence seemed to thicken between them until Grantaire couldn’t handle it any more, his mind flashing back to memories of the night before with Sylvie right there on that couch, running into places he didn't want it to go, thinking that Enjolras would soon be sickened, driven away by the same thoughts, seeking the sanctuary of his bedroom in the knowledge that the stale stench emanating from him was sex with his own mum, how embarrassing. 

Why he was suddenly thinking things like that he wasn’t sure, even though Enjolras seemed to just be sitting there absolutely fine as he continued to watch tv, but Grantaire couldn't stop himself becoming more conscious of it the longer he sat there next to him, it was Enjolras’ mum for fucks sake, and he felt he had a duty to somehow not alienate this kid and make him feel like he was an unwanted extra in his own home. 

When he thought about it with hindsight later, he realised that Enjolras hadn't seemed remotely bothered, probably because he, unlike Grantaire, had been in that situation many times before. And Grantaire wasn't sure how he felt about that. 

He liked this woman, he really did. She was incredibly intelligent, witty, fun, and as a bonus, really hot, (for her age, now that he knew what it really was,) and the added extra that she was great in bed went without saying, but what she’d done here really didn't sit well with Grantaire at all. 

But he realised Enjolras had obviously sat next to many a potential suitor on this very same couch, not all of them friendly, not all of them staying any longer than it took to verbalise their fury at being deceived, with varying degrees of physicality involved... for Enjolras as well as his mother. So in a way, he could understand why she’d done it... sort of. If she at least managed to explain herself sufficiently he might be able to forgive her... maybe. 

The way he saw it was that this poor kid was the hard done by one here, because Sylvie clearly brought on her man troubles all on her own, and it wasn’t Enjolras' fault. He figured he should make an effort, at the very least, to put the kid at ease and be friendly, assure him that he wasn't like the others he imagined he'd met before. 

So determined was he to strike up a conversation that he didn’t even think when the first thing popped into his head, 

“So... you don’t have a dad then?” 

Enjolras looked at him like he had two heads for a moment then laughed hollowly, “Dad? What's that? No I don't have a dad, as it happens. I have a lot of uncles though... What am I supposed to call you then? Uncle Grantaire? Or should we go straight to _‘daddy’_?” He lowered his tone an octave as he said it, getting up to put his bowl in the dishwasher and leaning back against the kitchen counter, smirking as Grantaire freaked out. 

“I think we can just stick with Grantaire... for, for now...” he spluttered, and Enjolras sniggered despite his best efforts not to, amused at how easy it was to unsettle this new man in his mum’s life. 

...

 

The rest of the morning passed in slightly more comfortable silence, interspersed with occasional idle chitchat and opinions and wisecracks about whatever was on tv. But eventually, it got to the point where Enjolras could no longer stop his eyes from closing of their own accord and he excused himself, his bed calling him loudly after the over-exertion of his extracurricular activities the night before. Grantaire unintentionally caught a few more Z’s himself before his shift started, snoozing on the couch until Sylvie rang him during a few snatched seconds of break in the busy A+E. 

...

Upstairs, hours later and despite doing his best to fight his straining bladder and stay asleep, Enjolras found himself bleary eyed, emerging from the bathroom. Barely conscious and fully intending to literally fall back into oblivion, the sound of his own name caught his attention as he inadvertently overheard the stranger in the house arguing with his mum on the phone. 

“Didn’t you ever think about how it must make Enjolras _feel?_ He doesn't deserve this shit! And it’s not even the first time, right?” 

Enjolras froze, zoning out as his mind struggled to comprehend that someone might actually be... standing up for him? Defending him? The overly loud whispered half of Grantaire’s conversation floated upstairs and Enjolras couldn’t help but feel an enormous pang in the centre of his chest, thinking it to be over how pissed Grantaire was at what his mum had done. And he didn’t blame him. But he hadn’t expected anything less from her and he felt embarrassed on her behalf that she’d done that to Grantaire. 

He knew it was the way she always introduced him to her possible suitors, but it had never bothered him before, it was just how things were. But now, for the first time, he actually realised how it must feel for the poor guy left to shoulder the burden of finding a random kid in the house, when they’d previously thought her to be completely free from complication. 

Before, he’d just accepted his mum’s tearful declarations that ‘all men are bastards’ whenever the man in question had done a runner. But Grantaire was different, he had a certain rakish visual appeal, (he grudgingly could admit his mum had done well, for a change,) and young, which was very different indeed for her. But regardless of all that, although it no doubt helped, it was just the fact that Grantaire had taken the time to talk to him and actually bothered to give him the time of day instead of just fucking off like he so rightly could have. He was _nice._

Granted, he now understood exactly why most men disappeared as soon as they could, he wouldn’t want to get lumped with him either... but Grantaire either just felt obliged, or at least liked his mum enough to give it a try, and you’ve got to respect the guy for that, especially when the unexpected burden wasn’t much younger than himself in the grand scheme of things. 

And now, Grantaire was making him realise how he felt about it, that he actually felt anything at all, and that in fact, he had every right to have feelings, to actually give a shit about the position he was repeatedly put in. Something his mum had never taken into consideration before. 

To answer Grantaire’s question himself, no, she had never, not once, thought about how it made Enjolras feel, putting him in that situation, all that mattered was how she felt. 

For the first time, he was realising how fucked up the whole thing actually was, and the fact that Grantaire could see it straight away and actually cared enough to defend him, to bring it to light on his behalf, it literally blew him away. No one had ever cared about him before, not since his grandma died, and not including the precious seconds with the few nameless fucks he’d managed to procure in various dark alleys around town... 

His heart was pounding as he tiptoed back to his room, every corner of his mind entirely occupied with thoughts of the man downstairs, his cheeks, wet with realisation, so unaccustomed was he to any kind of compassion. The unfamiliar tight feeling in his chest spread through his entire body and was one he couldn't even begin to describe, he’d certainly never felt anything like it before, attributing it entirely to Grantaire. 

He disappeared under his covers, curling onto his side and hugging his knees to his chest as he buried his face in his arms. Holding himself as he formed a tight ball, refusing to let the tears flow, slight tremors wracking his body as he pitied himself back to sleep. 

When he awoke in the late afternoon, the first thought on his mind was once again the conversation he'd overheard that morning, and he found himself idly wondering if Grantaire was still there. He wasn't sure why he would be, he wasn't sure exactly why he was still there that morning either, just assuming it was the usual thing of his own house being closer to work than Grantaire's and his shift starting soon enough that there was no point in going home. He considered a mission to raid the fridge, purely as an excuse to go downstairs in order to find out, but the longer he stayed right where he was, the more he felt himself grow reluctant to return to the living room and face the man he now saw as some kind of... hero? 

He didn’t want Grantaire to see how he was feeling, so despite his stomach protesting loudly he remained confined to his room. He couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, but especially after hearing how pissed off Grantaire had been on the phone, he felt his old self-consciousness around his mother's suitors creep back into play and he realised how nervous he was about facing him again. And the longer he stayed away the worse it got. 

His own thoughts were what held him back, rendered him incapable of basic function, hindering his social abilities to the point where wallowing in self pity seemed the only viable option. At least that was what he had led himself to believe so many times in the past, hiding away from his mum and her string of random lovers was his particular skill. Out of sight out of mind was easy to achieve in his experience... 

But this time it was for such a vastly different reason, to the point where he wasn't even sure why he was hiding, because he didn't need to, not from him, not from Grantaire. He was already sure of that. He was hiding from himself, and what he was afraid to let slip.

His feelings, how he felt, when he actually allowed himself to feel that is, were always so carefully concealed behind an indifferent mask of nonchalance, but Grantaire had seen straight through it. Or maybe he hadn't, but he still knew. He just knew. He just got it. Grantaire had read him so easily earlier, saw things he wasn't even aware of, things he didn't know were apparently just out there to see... 

And now there was even more to see, things that he didn't want Grantaire to have even the slightest inclination of, or insight into. This time it was private. The only difference was, this time, these things weren’t new to himself, just things he only allowed a very select few to see, and Grantaire wasn't one of them, he never would be. Never could be. 

_’Pity he’s so old...’_ he lamented as he rolled over in bed and sighed, staring at the wall, _’...and I'm too young for him, he’d never even look twice at me anyway...’_ he sighed again, closing his eyes to daydream further, before they flew open again with a shot when he realised what he was doing, _’Oh my fucking god it’s my mum’s boyfriend for fucks sake, what the fuck is wrong with me, gross! Grossss...’_ he shuddered, pulling the covers over his shoulders with a grimace as he buried himself deeper in the pillows. 

Finally, what felt like hours but could've been mere minutes later, he had his answer as he heard Grantaire come upstairs. He was still here. He could tell it was him and not Sylvie by the fall of his feet on the stairs and he waited with baited breath, frozen to the spot, straining to hear the muffled noises coming from the other end of the hall. He heard a door open somewhere to his left and strained harder, and then the toilet flushed and he coloured profusely, freezing even further as he heard the unmistakeable sounds of him entering the bathroom. 

Right next door to where he was sitting, on the immediate other side of the very wall he was currently leant against, he heard the shower start and the change from the sound of water on tile as a body stepped underneath the flow. He tried not to think about the lean, toned body... Grantaire’s body... completely naked... a body his mind was letting him imagine to be already obscured by steam as he stood, back to the hot spray, head thrown back as he washed his hair, eyes scrunched tight against the water cascading down over his beautiful face, running in rivulets down his chest... 

It was more than he could take, the moan escaping his lips one he barely recognised as coming from his own throat so lost was he in his arousal, his musings becoming solid in his subconscious for future perusal, almost as if witnessed in the flesh, oh how he wished... 

No. 

No no no no no.

No, not now, not ever... 

He found himself withdrawing his hand, previously so intent on its path, and the groan that left him was altogether different this time as rational thought took over, prompted as he was by the vacuous rumblings demanding his attention, well, the sort he was more inclined to give in to, the sort he could feed literally instead of figuratively... even though he already knew he’d be back to relieve the other one later... 

He was racing downstairs before he even realised he was doing it, desperate to quell the insatiable hungers within him, both of them, before Grantaire reappeared. He grabbed as much food as he could carry, taking the stairs two at a time as he heard the shower shut off, sliding back through the door to safety, hiding himself away once more in his room. 

But as he sat on the floor, cross-legged, stuffing his face and listening to Grantaire getting ready for his shift, he couldn't stop himself as his mind again wandered to the images of what might have just been...   
He shook his head furiously, he’d never gone there with one of his mum’s boyfriends before, not even in his mind, never, granted because they were usually all disgusting middle-aged alcoholic pigs, but seriously, this had to stop. 

He wondered if Grantaire would come back tomorrow... and what his mum would say, or do, when she went grovelling. He knew she’d do just about anything to placate him, this one was a keeper, of that he was already certain, and he was sure there would be a way for Sylvie to get her claws back in. He didn't even want to imagine what it might be and he shuddered at the thought. 

But it was too late, he was already imagining Grantaire stretched out on the bed, back arching, eyes closed as he cried out in ecstasy at the exquisite things he was being subjected to... and Enjolras felt privileged to be privy to them, to have such a good view, how considerate of Grantaire to appear naked in his imagination when they’d only just met... 

 

..................................................


	2. He could see the sadness in her eyes, it reflected that in his own...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It got to the point where Grantaire no longer had a clue where he stood. Initially, for the first few months, things had been great, or at least that was what he’d thought at the time. But Enjolras ran so hot and cold on him now he just didn’t know any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else have the "can't post in the future" problem? As in, it's the 15th wherei live, ao3 has kindly auto filled in the update date as the 15th, yet when I actually hit post it says it's the future and I have to go back and manually change it. Drives me mad. It's not my fault I live in the future. AND my time zone is set correctly and everything so am I just being stupid about something or does it happen to everyone?? Maybe I should stop posting in the middle of the night?

...

 

It got to the point where Grantaire no longer had a clue where he stood. Initially, for the first few months, things had been great, or at least that was what he’d thought at the time. But Enjolras ran so hot and cold on him now he just didn’t know any more. It was like he was bi-polar and unable to control his emotions one minute, then civil and nonchalant again the next. And now Sylvie was telling him about how he always did so well at school, well, he did when he bothered to apply himself, and that the change from straight A’s had come almost instantly the second he turned thirteen. She neglected to mention that was also when his grandma died and that was when she had reluctantly taken him back full time after that, but he managed to piece it all together for himself. 

Sometimes he could have sworn Enjolras didn't even come home at night, and tempted as he was to knock on his door and check on him, he didn't want to come across as some kind of interfering busy body. And Sylvie never seemed to notice, but that only spurred Grantaire on further and he went out of his way to make time to be there if Enjolras ever needed him. But he never did. 

In fact, quite the opposite. He seemed to run as fast as he could as far away as possible if he ever suspected anything resembling bonding coming his way. Even to the point of coming home in the morning after Sylvie had gone to work, obviously expecting an empty house and practically doing an about turn as soon as he saw Grantaire, or just disappearing upstairs and not coming back. At all. All day. Sometimes Grantaire knocked on his door and offered him food, asked him if he needed a lift anywhere, just generally tried to make some kind of connection, all the things he knew his mother wasn't doing, but it was all in vain. 

One time, he’d fallen asleep on the couch watching some crap early morning tv after Sylvie had gone to work and he’d only just got in from his night shift, never even making it upstairs to bed, and he became aware of the tv changing channels somewhere outside of his consciousness. When he finally opened his eyes, they fell on Enjolras who was curled up on the other couch and staring straight back at him but didn't seem to realise he was awake for a moment or two. Reverie broken with a start, the serene look on his face vanished and he instantly turned back to the tv, trying to act natural like he hadn't just been caught staring. Grantaire watched him quietly for awhile, before stretching himself, ridiculously uncomfortable, attempting to right himself in an attempt at sitting, oblivious to the surreptitious sidelong glances directed his way, lingering where his tshirt rose to expose the bare skin of his stomach. 

“Hey...” he rubbed his face, knuckling the sleep from his eyes and yawning widely, 

“Hey.” 

Well that was something at least, more of a response than he expected. He decided not to push his luck, “You want me to leave you to it? Sorry for interrupting...” 

Enjolras looked at him briefly, expression blank, eyes distinctly sad, “Nah man you’re ok, sorry if I woke you...” 

“No, no, you’re fine...” Grantaire was shocked, trying to reassure him, this was the most of what barely passed as conversation between them in weeks, 

“There’s coffee in the pot...” 

“Great...” He pushed himself up and gingerly padded over to the kitchen, unaware of Enjolras’ eyes following his every move, “Want some?” he asked, indicating a refill if Enjolras needed one, 

“Thanks Grantaire...” Grantaire noticed he wouldn't look at him now, or couldn't perhaps, eyes downcast as he continued unexpectedly, “I’m sorry I'm always such a dick.” 

“Enjolras...” 

But at that moment Grantaire’s cell rang as Sylvie called to ask him a favour. Too tired to argue, Grantaire listened intently with wide eyes as she explained she had a call from Enjolras’ school and had been asked to attend the upcoming parent/teacher night and if she had to go then he had to go with her too, as moral support. Moral support for who exactly Grantaire wondered, and immediately set about asking why she was apparently incapable of going on her own, it being her son and all, but he eventually agreed under the proviso that he ran it by Enjolras first, after listening in disappointment as she declared it too tiresome to be bothered about. He sighed in dismay. Someone had to be there for that poor kid.

And to his credit, Enjolras didn't freak out like he feared, seeming to understand it was more a case of moral support than trying to parent him... he just gave a non-committal shrug, uttering a barely audible “Whatever...” and seemed to instantly return to his sullen usual self. 

When he hung up, annoyed at having his first progress in ages thwarted prematurely, Grantaire wracked his brains for a gesture to offer by way of apology. 

“Hey uh, I was thinking, you mentioned a while ago that you’re looking to get yourself behind the wheel pretty soon?” 

“Hm, yeah, maybe... see what happens I guess.” 

“Well if you want I can teach you?” 

Enjolras looked at him as if he’d just offered to eat his own face, complete disbelief apparent in his eyes. 

“It’s okay, if you have other plans for it... or, or you know, you don't want to, it’s cool, just thought I’d ask... you know, seeing as I'm around a lot in the day and all, and uh, well, so are you.” 

Grantaire was well aware he was rambling, and he knew his acknowledgement of Enjolras' school attendance, or lack thereof, wouldn't go unnoticed but he also hoped the fact he hadn't ever got on to him about it, despite Sylvie’s vocal pleading for him to talk some sense into him, might encourage him to accept the offer. 

“No, uh, I mean, yeah, yes, that’d be great!” Enjolras couldn't stop himself from gushing yet still found himself trying to find reasons to doubt his sincerity, “Are you sure? ‘Cos you know, you don’t have to...” he faltered for a second, “Did mum put you up to it?” he finished quietly, and Grantaire could almost see the sadness creep back into his eyes as he asked, 

“What? No, I remembered you mentioned it ages ago, I've been thinking about it for awhile but I just haven't seen you around, and I didn't know when you’d be allowed to start,” 

“Okay,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, thankyou,” Enjolras smiled, the first genuine smile Grantaire had seen from him since that very first day they’d met, and it lit up his entire face, his eyes shining bright, and Grantaire felt good. 

“When can we go?” 

“Whenever you want.” 

“...Now?” he could hear the hesitance in his voice as Enjolras asked, but was already fishing in his jacket pocket for his keys, 

“Sure.” 

...... 

 

It was a few months later when history repeated itself, the three of them sat stiffly yet again outside the classroom, waiting to be called in as if to their doom. This was only the second time ever that Enjolras and his mother had ever actually been to one of these things together, usually she was at work or just didn't go, scoffing at the letter she got afterwards asking if Enjolras had actually bothered to tell her in the first place. 

Last time was terrible, it really couldn't have been much worse, and that went for Grantaire as well as Enjolras, who felt terrible that he'd been the one to put Grantaire in that position and hoped to hell that it wouldn't be the same this time. The worst part was that the teachers had all taken it upon themselves to assume Grantaire was either his actual father, or some kind of stable and permanent influence. Either way they seemed to completely patronise and talk down to him as if he was stupid because of his age, yet at the same time expecting him to step up and take control as if Sylvie wasn't even there. And as for her, she seemed to like it that way, just faded into the background and let them direct everything to Grantaire and just let him deal with it. 

As for Enjolras, he couldn't deal with it at all. At one point, between teachers, he rounded on Grantaire and demanded he stand up for himself,  
“It’s like you're the one at school! How can you let them talk to you like that! You're not even my dad, for fucks sake!” and he stormed out, leaving them gaping after him in his wake just as the next teacher was ready for them. 

Needless to say it didn't go down well, with said teacher telling Sylvie pityingly that maybe she should go after him, and she had no hesitation about scarpering, leaving Grantaire to bear the brunt of a lecture on tardiness and application. But he'd sat there and taken it, unable to stop himself from feeling responsible and wishing there was something he could do to help. He'd even offered to tutor him in the subjects he hated, suggesting that maybe working on it one on one with someone who didn't expect blood from a stone might actually help. 

But Enjolras had just stared at him in horror, open mouthed, then flushed a deep red and excused himself, not emerging from his room until he was sure Grantaire had definitely gone to work. Grantaire, for his part, had absolutely no idea what he'd done wrong, but that was definitely for the best, as it was stemming from that very offer that Enjolras’ daily ritual began. 

He’d taken to ensuring he was in his room when Grantaire got ready for work, ear pressed to the wall as he strived to hear every little sound he made in the bathroom next door, hand desperately in his pants as he closed his eyes and leant back flat against the wall as soon as the shower came on. The images dancing behind his eyes were pornographic to say the least, but he had no doubt in his mind that seeing the real thing would impress him far more than anything his subconscious could conjure up for him. 

But that didn't stop the fervent tugging, gasping, panting as he came in his hand, holding his breath as he listened over the sound of his own heart beating loudly in his ears to catch snippets of Grantaire whistling away as he dried himself off. It was always the same tune, without fail, and Enjolras had taken to playing it repeatedly on his ipod whenever he needed his spirits lifted... 

_When routine bites hard,_  
And ambitions are low,  
And resentment rides high,  
But emotions won't grow,  
And we're changing our ways,  
Taking different roads. 

He felt it said it all really... 

_Then love, love will tear us apart, again..._

So after what happened last time they sat in that classroom, Enjolras was visibly uncomfortable, this was the last place in the world he wanted to be, any time really, let alone right now with Grantaire sitting beside him all over again. But his mum had insisted he come again, part of the family now she’d said, and Enjolras could tell that Grantaire still felt just as awkward as he did. 

The thought of that somehow served to soothe his twitching nerves, if only momentarily, because no matter what was said in any of these meetings tonight, he didn’t want Grantaire to hear any of it. He didn't want him to hear all over again that he hated physics and chemistry, and never went to calculus or economics because he just didn't fucking care. He didn't want him to hear that he was amazing at politics, literature and history and the teachers couldn't understand why he wouldn't apply himself equally in his other subjects... Girls subjects, his mum always said, and it always made him feel stupid, and stupid was the last thing he wanted Grantaire to think he was. 

Because he wasn’t, he was just bored, he had a brain, he just chose to use it differently to the way they expected him to at school. Like by _being there_ for example. He knew he was due to get massively grilled over his attendance this term, last time was bad enough but this time he knew would be the final straw and he expected some kind of threat about not graduating unless he reached a certain target... But he really didn't care, all he cared about was that Grantaire would be there to see it happen, to remind Grantaire that he was only 17, he was still a mere child in the eyes of, well, everyone. 

In reality, his absences were not wasted, he didn't just lie around smoking weed all day like he was sure they all suspected. It was in fact all time well spent, carefully planned excursions to broaden his mind, broaden his horizons. He spent most days wandering around the big museums and galleries in the city, going to plays and watching shows, seeing bands, a lot of bands in fact, one in particular but that was a whole other story... Essentially he was giving himself a cultural education school could never hope to provide. He had an inkling that Grantaire already knew, or at least suspected, but his mum had no idea what he did. She still didn't care. Especially not whenever Grantaire was there. 

He couldn't help but wonder sometimes why Grantaire was still there, why he stuck around. He began to think, to hope, that perhaps he was one of the reasons.

In so many ways Grantaire made his mum a better person. Although she was always still tired from such long shifts at work and barely ever spoke to him, at least she was happy. And that was something Enjolras hadn't ever really seen that often. He could see the sadness in her eyes, it reflected that in his own... 

Things had been so weird recently, while Grantaire had been teaching him to drive a few months ago, Enjolras had been a different person. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look at him, he’d even started going to school, even the lessons he hated, every single day. Spending time with Grantaire was all he lived for, though of course no one knew that, so when it ended, when he got his license, he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

There was simply no way he could prolong it. He rejected all Grantaire’s attempts to find something else they could do, fearing they’d actually have nothing at all in common and he didn't want anything to ruin his illusion of the perfect man Grantaire had become in his eyes. Plus, he didn't want to get to know him knowing he’d never get to have him, to have to watch from the sidelines as he made nice with his mum, because the more he knew, the deeper he’d fall, and he was already in over his head. It was sink or swim as far as Enjolras was concerned, and he was making his escape as fast as he could. Well, he was trying. 

No matter what he did, Grantaire never seemed to give up, although Enjolras could see in his eyes that sometimes he wanted to. He reverted to being the most insolent brat he could find within himself, mustering all his sullen nonchalance in an attempt to make Grantaire stop trying, to stop being so nice, to push him away, to make him hate him. It was easier that way. 

... 

 

Grantaire groaned as he looked at the flashing screen with annoyance, clipping it back onto his belt. He was reluctant to answer his phone, it was his hospital line and Sylvie knew better than to ring it, so it must've been important. But he was just about to come off shift, surely it could wait? Apparently not. It rang insistently and he knew she wouldn't stop until he succumbed. She should have just come on shift herself, so he couldn't for the life of him imagine what she wanted. 

But his mind went straight to Enjolras. Something’s up. It must be. The school had come down hard on him since the last meeting, he was issued with a truancy schedule that he had to complete or risk not graduating, they all knew it was coming, but Enjolras could see how hard it was on him. He was just so unhappy. 

He wondered frequently what else it was at that school that made him so reluctant to actually turn up, he was an intelligent kid, it wasn't as though he couldn't handle the work, but the way Enjolras seemed to see it was that he just had better things to do. Exactly what they were was anyone’s guess and Grantaire wasn't sure he even wanted to know. He’d barely seen Enjolras recently, he’d actually been keeping to his schedule and Grantaire had been on nights for awhile, so he hoped nothing was wrong and it was for that reason alone that he answered his phone. 

Turned out Sylvie had had a call from the school just after morning role call and Enjolras hadn't shown... and as he’d been doing so well until now, they were worried he was sick. But Sylvie hadn't seen him at all for a few days apparently, and hadn't thought to check in with her own son until the concern of the school guilt-tripped her into a need to see if he was okay. But she was at work already and it didn't occur to her to perhaps take some time to go and do it herself, no, she knew Grantaire was about to finish his shift so figured he could call in and see if he was home and just let her know when he found him. Which Grantaire thought was just swell. Yeah right. 

Because what if Enjolras wasn't there? What if he hadn't been home for days? He was already worried and he’d barely put the phone down, yet Sylvie didn't seem to think there’d be a problem at all. Not even bothering to change, Grantaire clocked off and ran down to his car, phone to his ear to see if anyone picked up on the house line before trying the number Sylvie just gave him for Enjolras’ mobile. But to no avail. 

He screeched to a halt out front ten minutes later and let himself in, breathing an initial sigh of relief as the steady beat of music drifted down the stairs. But despite initial misgivings and the urge to declare everything fine, he reminded himself that didn't mean Enjolras was actually there, and actually okay. 

Just as he was about to take the stairs two at a time, he stopped dead in his tracks as someone appeared on the landing. He was young, older than Enjolras maybe, black hair with a bright red streak falling over his eyes, and head to toe leather. 

_Head to toe leather._

They stared at each other for a moment, almost as though sizing each other up. 

“You the one on the phone?” 

“Huh?” 

Although the voice was calm, Grantaire could hear the confrontation in the question, the aggressive undertones, and had no idea what he was talking about. His face must’ve shown it because the bloke continued as he started making his way down the stairs, 

“You rang a minute ago?” 

“Oh, uh, yes.” 

“Right, so...” he’d reached the bottom of the stairs now and perhaps realised how intimidating Grantaire suddenly was, stopping a few feet away and looking him and his white coat up and down, “You here to play doctors huh?!” 

But before Grantaire even had time to process the connotations of the question, Enjolras had appeared, practically falling over himself in his haste to get down the stairs, breathlessly declaring everything to be fine, "This is Grantaire, my, uh... my dad...?" 

“What??” Two voices in unison wanted to clarify exactly what it was he’d just said. 

“Montparnasse, this is Grantaire... my... uh, my stepdad...” 

“Your stepdad?” 

The incredulousness was evident in his voice as he stared at Enjolras like he was speaking a different language, before erupting into gales of laughter as he shrugged, nodding in affirmation. 

"Yeah? You keep telling yourself that dude,"

Grantaire glanced sideways at Enjolras as they stood awkwardly, one foot nervously rubbing the back of his ankle with his toe as he wondered what the fuck this so called Montparnasse was getting at... although Enjolras had a rather large inkling. 

“Dude, thanks for the lift hey...” Enjolras cut in, handing him a crash helmet from beside the door, trying to hurry him out, embarrassed as hell, wondering if Grantaire had caught on yet. 

“Dude, your ‘mum’ did goooood!” he drawled as he was all but pushed outside, craning his neck to get one last appreciative look at Grantaire before the door closed in his face, 

“Yeah, I know. See ya...” Enjolras called out, leaning his forehead against the wood as he watched through the spyhole, making sure he actually got on his bike, not yet ready to turn and face Grantaire as they listened to it crank up and set off with an unnecessary roar, petrified as to what his reaction might be. 

But Grantaire, oblivious to all the signs right there in front of his eyes, watched out the window as the tyres screeched away, “Is he in a band?!” 

“Um, yeah.” 

“Cool.” 

Enjolras could not believe that was the end of the conversation, like seriously? That's all he had to say about it? “Yeah, cool.” 

He started to sidle away towards the kitchen, wondering what Grantaire had actually phoned him for, hoping that he’d conveniently forgotten... but also curious despite himself. As soon as he opened his eyes that morning and realised he’d slept in, he already knew the school would soon be on his case. But he’d been so busy getting hammered after the gig the night before and fucking Montparnasse through the mattress that he forgot to set his alarm. But after the initial shock wore off he figured he may as well make the most of the gorgeous guy asleep next to him in his bed to the point where they didn't even hear the phone ring, and it wasn't until Enjolras checked the time afterwards that he freaked out upon seeing Grantaire’s message. 

And he knew it wouldn't be anything good, especially not with the way he came screeching up outside the house mere seconds later and the fact he had actually phoned, the message he left frantic, asking if he was okay... but some small part of him had swooned inside when he saw Grantaire’s name in his missed calls list, even more so when he heard what the actual message contained. 

Although he knew he was in trouble, just the fact alone that Grantaire cared enough about him to see where he was, to check if he was okay, to come careening round still in his work clothes, it made Enjolras’ heart sing. He couldn't help it. He just hoped against hope that Grantaire hadn't picked up on the less than subtle insinuations Montparnasse had so gleefully spouted. That inconsiderate bastard. 

But as he reached the kitchen, making himself busy filling the coffee pot and rummaging around for something to eat, he could feel Grantaire’s presence behind him, knowing he’d followed and was trying to figure out what to say. Keeping his back to him, concentrating so hard on praying to every non-specific deity he could think of to prevent the conversation he knew was about to take place, and as hyper aware as he was of Grantaire’s presence behind him, he almost jumped out of his skin when he finally spoke, he was that on edge. Maybe that post coital joint wasn't such a good idea after all.

But he needn’t have worried, Grantaire was concerned about him and just wanted to make sure he was okay, yet  
seemingly oblivious to the fact he was fucking the hot guy he had kicked out of bed mere moments before he arrived. 

“Grantaire I'm fine,” 

“It’s just the school phoned your mum...” 

“I know, they phoned me too...” 

“She asked me to see if you were okay...” 

“Check up on me more like.” 

“Not at all, she was worried, she didn’t know where you were!” 

Enjolras whirled round in fury, positively seething, “Exactly my point! I haven’t seen her in days Grantaire! Days! She never bothers to even check if I’m here or not when she’s home! Unless you’re here of course, then it’s a whole different story in front of her perfect boyfriend! She was just feeling guilty ‘cos the school phoned! If she was so fucking concerned about me why didn't she come herself? Huh? Why’d she send you? Because she doesn't fucking care that’s why. She never has. She didn't even fucking ring! You did! You care more than she does even though it’s just 'cos you feel obliged. Fuck.” 

Grantaire was completely taken aback by the uncharacteristic outburst, but it was clearly something that had been brewing for a long time. He had no idea how to respond, not wanting to further upset the delicate sensibilities of the distraught young man in front of him or be on the receiving end of a verbal tongue lashing. 

“Enjolras, what are you talking about? Of course she cares about you!” He wasn't even sure he believed his own words, and felt even worse for trying to use them to convince Enjolras with such a lack of conviction.

“She doesn’t Grantaire, she never has, I know that, it’s no secret. She never wanted me! Right from the start I was a mistake and she never let me forget it. She didn’t want me then and she dumped me on her own mother, she was an old woman! But mum didn't even care! And then she didn’t want me again when grandma died, I was only 13 and she still didn't want me but she was forced to take me back.” He heaved a giant sigh from somewhere in his very depths, a sound no one so young should have the experience to warrant, “But it’s fine, you know? It’s just the way it is.” 

Grantaire was genuinely flabbergasted, “What, Enjolras, it’s not fine... what the fuck...” he swore to himself as he guided Enjolras into the lounge room and sat him down on the couch, the platinum head instantly falling chin to his chest to hide what could only be assumed to be tears. And Grantaire couldn't blame him for that. He hurried back to the kitchen to finish brewing the coffee, bringing back two sweet steaming mugs, offering one to Enjolras as a way of comfort in the absence of appropriate physical contact. He sat down himself on the coffee table, facing the forlorn figure and wondering how on earth to console him when he was obviously so broken. 

“Enjolras, please... talk to me...” 

Long moments of silence passed, Grantaire just letting him be before Enjolras finally sighed, shrugging as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, “There’s nothing more to say, I was overreacting, just ignore me, seriously, I’m not worth the effort.” 

Grantaire's heart broke at such desolate misery, reaching out in earnestness to rest a comforting hand upon his shoulder, slumped in such a picture of melancholy despair,

“Of course you are.” 

Enjolras’ heart fluttered despite everything, and he felt like he just wanted to open up and spill out its contents no matter how messy, everything that had been on his mind for the past few years was right there, teetering on the brink, and as much as Grantaire was the last person he wanted to burden with his problems, to show how fucked up he really was, he figured he was probably the closest thing he had to a confidante in his life, and right then and there, he was pretty sure Grantaire was the only person who cared enough to listen. 

“My mum was young when she had me, but grandma was old when she had my mum. Mum was still at school, she didn't know what the fuck to do with me so she just dumped me as a baby on this 60 year old woman and went back to do her A levels as if nothing had happened. The only reason I stopped living with her was because she died. Mum came and got me and sold the house. My grandpa built it... he died when I was little. He was like my hero, because I never had a dad, I don't even know if mum knew who my dad actually was... that’s what she was like, you know how it is. I used to think grandpa was my dad, because mum called him dad too, you know? He was in the Royal Navy, a marine, he was in the war and everything, he was really old when I knew him, and he used to tell me all these stories about all the different countries he went to... Anyway when he died, mum had already decided to become a doctor and was away at university, it was just me and Grandma. I really loved her Grantaire, she was everything to me, she was the only person who ever really loved me.” 

He sighed, the saddest sound Grantaire had ever heard. He was so resigned to the fact and accepting of his lot that it broke Grantaire’s heart. He was used to heart wrenching situations in his line of work but was clueless about how to deal with the one here in front of him right now. 

“She wants you to marry her you know...” 

“Pardon?” He was shaken from his reverie with a start. Surely he couldn't have heard that right... right? 

“You’re too good for my mum Grantaire, she doesn't deserve you.” 

“Enjolras... I don't know what to say... I'm so sorry.” 

“It's not your fault no one ever gave a shit about me.” 

“I give a shit,” 

“No you don't, why would you, you don't even know me.”  
There was no emotion in his voice, nothing, it was like he had no fight left in him, and Grantaire found himself near to pleading, 

“I _want_ to know you, I've been trying but you throw it back in my face... I know you need help, I know you need someone to care about you, I want to help but you won't let me!” 

“I don't want your pity. I don't need you feeling obliged to care about me. That's the last thing I want. You're not my dad so you don't have to pretend to be, I'm fine on my own, I don't need you... definitely not you...” 

_only you, especially you..._

“Enjolras wait,” Grantaire reached out, his hand closing on air as Enjolras fled for the safety of his room, his sanctuary, but Grantaire was hot on his heels, “Please...” 

He tried again to no avail, Enjolras’ desperation apparent as he tried to hide his face as Grantaire spun him around when he reached his door, but he flinched the second their skin touched, jumping back as though burned, 

“Don’t touch me!” 

The words sounded as though they were ripped from his soul, eyes flashing, heart racing, seconds away from doing something he’d regret... _Those eyes, he was lost in those eyes, he could feel himself falling, drowning... Hands clutching desperately at nothing by his sides as he tried to rein himself in..._ but instead, he slammed the door in Grantaire’s face before his instincts took over, chest heaving and gasping with the effort to restrain the unshed tears that out of nowhere threatened to fall. 

And that was the last anyone saw of him for a week. 

 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I accidentally angst-ed all over the place there didn't I, I'm so sorry for putting Enjolras through all this, I know he's not a marble statue, yet, but who knows, maybe his early years are what made him that way? We don't meet him in the brick until he's 22 so he may not have been quite the same when he was this age? Who knows! And hey, do I need a beta? I don't have one, so I'm not sure if anything I'm writing in here even makes sense. Does it?


	3. Enjolras couldn't remember, but Grantaire couldn't forget.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of going back to the party he just kept on running, it seemed like a good idea at the time...

______

MIDDLE  
______

 

“So, where were you?” 

“Mum, I really don't wanna do this right now.” 

“I have a right to know, I’m your mother!” 

“In name only.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, but the words passed his lips as more gut reflex than intention, and he held his breath as he realised that he actually said that out loud. 

She was more shocked than if he’d slapped her round the face, but her silence only encouraged him further once he recovered from the initial guilt and defensiveness kicked in, “Stop pretending you care mum, Grantaire’s not here.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean? I do care...” she looked positively distraught, and genuinely surprised that he thought that, but didn't even attempt to deny it. Enjolras had never spoken to her like that before. But after he’d come home from being AWOL for an entire week, he seemed different, like he couldn't be bothered keeping up appearances anymore, like he’d given up all hope entirely of ever meaning anything to her. 

“Save it, I’m in a rush.” 

“Why do you hate Grantaire?” 

“Pardon?” He stood from where he’d been bent over rummaging in the fridge, his turn to be genuinely shocked at her asking that, 

“You've never even given him a chance. I thought the age gap would be good, that you two could be friends... but you just continue to defy me at every turn!” 

“Where’d you pull that line from? Been watching too much Jeremy Kyle mum,” but in all honesty he was wracking his brains for a reason why she’d think he could ever possibly hate Grantaire... maybe his sullen sarcastic act was more convincing than he realised. 

“How would you feel if we got married?” 

What. The. Fuck? 

Enjolras froze. Was she for real? After everything he told Grantaire, after _warning_ him, and this was how he repaid him? By actually succumbing to her? By catering to her selfish ways? That was the final straw, Enjolras didn't need to hear anymore, ever. He’d had enough. He picked up his bag from where he’d left it on the floor and walked straight back out the door, less than twenty minutes after he came in. . 

The next twenty four hours passed in a frenzied blur for Enjolras as his hedonistic streak reached epic proportions, uncharacteristically drowning his sorrows in any way available to an underage seeker of every pleasure on offer. 

Finally, obliterated out of his mind, he unloaded the contents of his stomach down the front of some guy’s fly, whose cock he had until that moment been servicing down the back of his throat. A boot to the face later, he passed out in his own mess, abandoned in the dark of an alley behind his umpteenth club of the night. 

That’s where he was finally picked up and unceremoniously dumped in the back of a police van and taken to the nearest lock up to sleep off his hangover. He’d already run twice from the police earlier that evening for being drunk and disorderly, and not to mention underage, and thrown out of as many clubs as he’d been in for causing trouble.  
E’d off his face, all he really wanted to do initially was dance the night away and forget his troubles... that had been his intention until he hit up that house party with a few of his pals, partaking in the many tempting treats on offer. And despite being fully aware that he shouldn’t have even taken, let alone drunk, that entire bottle of Sailor Jerry he just couldn't stop himself, swigging from the neck as he was chased down the street by the shopkeeper... 

Instead of going back to the party he just kept on running, it seemed like a good idea at the time but only served to make him even more conspicuous and led to the first of the night’s near encounters with the police. In a way, with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight at least, he wished he’d just offered his wrists to be cuffed then and there and spared him the trouble of the rest of the evening... but at that early stage of the game, he hadn’t yet accomplished his intentions of the night, and with faculties intact, set about losing them completely. 

He slept for a solid six hours on the cold concrete floor of the piss encrusted cell before regaining consciousness enough to spill his guts once more. This time he at least managed to miss everyone else in close proximity and just wore the lot down the leg of his jeans. In the process, the ungrateful roar of the cell’s other spectator occupants drew the attention of the duty officer at the end of the corridor, as well as rousing his still hammered self to a point that enabled questioning to begin. 

He had been dragged in there by the scruff of the neck, but one sniff now and the duty officer refused to go anywhere near him, beckoning from the doorway instead as he struggled to stumble to his feet and staggered drunkenly down the corridor behind him. 

Because of his status as a minor, it was usual practise to call for a parent or guardian to be present and accept responsibility, and in this case bring a full set of clean clothes before the officer would deem him fit to sit in an interview room. 

But Enjolras point blank refused to let them call Sylvie, loudly and defiantly citing irreconcilable differences, adamantly insisting she wouldn’t come anyway. 

“You may as well just keep me here!” he shouted at the retreating back of the duty Officer, wondering at his own nerve and if it was still all a surreal absinthe dream, and after some gentle haranguing and seeing how the mere mention of his mother affected him and that there would be no convincing him otherwise, the Officer let it drop, for now, intending to go make enquiries of his own. 

After an hour or so of leaving Enjolras once again comatose, but this time alone and nauseous to stew in the despair and paranoia of his hangover, he returned, sticking his head round the door,  
“So, one last time, you sure you don't want me to ring your mum, yeah?” 

Enjolras shrugged, nodding forlornly as he sat with eyes glazed and avoiding any contact at all, head thumping, shoulders slumped, legs crossed at the ankles and swinging dolefully back and forth under the bench he was perched on. 

“This ought’a sober you up some...” 

He was unceremoniously ushered into the wet room to get hosed down. Emerging on the other side of the freezing cold spray with a scratchy towel and numb reddened skin, he found a pile of his own clothes waiting, neatly folded in a way he was certain he hadn’t left them back in the laundry basket at home. As he stood staring at them blankly thinking how unlike his mum that was, he was given the hurry up from outside the door and quickly marched into the stark box room down the hall to be interviewed and processed. He was barely in his seat when the duty officer returned, filling the doorway, 

“Well we needed someone, 'cos I refuse to allow your stinking carcass in my interview room without a wash and we needed to progress, but I didn't want no more of your pity party so I got your dad instead.” 

Enjolras’ brain took a moment to catch up with what his ears had just thought they heard, his eyes following the great hulking bulk move to take a seat opposite at the small laminate table, 

“Huh?” 

But before his mind had a chance to process anything, the doorway was once again filled, this time in the unmistakeable form of Grantaire, escorted in by another gigantic pen pushing desk sergeant and directed to sit.  
If he had been capable of speech, the words would have been as coherent as the muddle in his mind and died on his tongue before they even met the air. But as it transpired he wouldn’t have got a word in edgewise, for it was Grantaire who instantly opened with a tirade of concerned relief, 

“Shit, are you okay? Where the fuck have you been?” 

It was all Enjolras could do to stare at him in barely concealed surprise, hearing nothing of what he said, his shock at seeing him there clearly evident and his still drunken mind unsure at first if it was playing tricks on him. The mere fact alone that he had come for him, that he was _there_ , something inside him was trying to burst out of its confines and his eyes were unexpectedly wet with emotion. 

Questions were asked and answers avoided, and they were offered a cup of tea and left alone while various forms were retrieved in order for fingerprints to be appropriated. 

Taking a deep breath as soon as the door closed, Enjolras was barely aware the words were even leaving his mouth until it was too late, 

“Grantaire, please don't marry my mum... please, please don't do this, I just, I couldn't handle it, it’d kill me, please...” he realised how desperate he sounded and looked away, biting his lip, 

Grantaire was incredulous, literally with no idea what Enjolras was even talking about, or why he’d be thinking anything like that and completely misinterpreting his words, “What?” 

“I’ve never begged for anything before, and I've never asked for anything from you, but I’m begging you for this...” 

“Enjolras...” 

At that moment Enjolras looked back up and their eyes met, Grantaire seeing not for the first time the complete and utter despair in the haunted look that passed over Enjolras’ face, completely misreading and misunderstanding that as well and changing tack completely, something inside him physically hurting from the feeling of rejection that engulfed him,  
“I was never... Look," he shook his head, "Can I just ask... why?” he swallowed, “Why wouldn't you... want me to do that?” 

But Enjolras had said as much as he dared, even in his inebriated state he was still careful to hide, it was second nature for him these days after all, “I’m going away, to university I mean, in Paris. I start next term.” 

“What?” The abrupt change of subject took Grantaire by surprise, “Paris? Why?” 

But Enjolras remained silent on all but the last question, sadly turning to meet his eye, completely unaware of the effect his next words would have, “Because of you.” 

Grantaire had felt nothing but rejection and general disquiet from Enjolras for quite some time, it only being reiterated by Sylvie at every opportunity as she urged him to try harder to do something about it, but nothing had been so verbally final before, and he couldn't deny that it hurt, as he’d done nothing but try his best from the start. 

In attempting to accommodate Enjolras and listening to what Sylvie considered advice, he began to wonder if he was fighting a lost cause and figured that he and Enjolras would never get along, and he realised that Sylvie probably wouldn't much care, as long as it affected her as little as possible, what with it being purely for appearances sake that she ever even mentioned it. 

It had been hard for Grantaire to see this other side to Sylvie after only knowing the effervescent and approachable persona she wore at work, but clearly that's where she left all traces of bedside manner when she went home because she definitely never had any in reserve for Enjolras. But rarely seeing them together, it had taken a long time for Grantaire to realise to what extent it really stretched.

But his burgeoning awareness couldn't seem to find any correlation between the way his mum treated him and the reason Enjolras seemed to loathe Grantaire in return. Perhaps his way of dealing with it was simply to retaliate against anything his mum actually liked, juvenile yes, but understandable under the circumstances. 

Although Grantaire couldn't blame him one iota for that, but he was nothing if not stubborn, and a dent that large in his ego and self esteem needed a reason to be there, required some kind of explanation in order to even begin to achieve any kind of closure. So he figured it wouldn't hurt to know for sure, what with Enjolras' loose tongue being so cooperative and all... 

“Why do you hate me so much? I don't understand what I did wrong Enjolras, but I'm sorry, I really am...” 

Enjolras looked up in surprise, did everyone really think that? “Hate you?” he whispered, aghast, “No Grantaire... Why do you think that?” 

Grantaire was floored, that was certainly not even close to the response he was expecting, “It’s... you... you just... well, it just feels that way." he shrugged, exasperated, "And your mum told me...” 

“And you believed her...” he shook his head sadly, then with growing conviction, “I don't hate you, I could _never_ hate you...” He turned and looked at him again, eyes raking over the beautiful face he adored, hating to see it so distressed and knowing he was the cause, “Quite the opposite really...” 

The words were whispered against Grantaire’s lips, soft and heartfelt and entirely unintentional, finding their own way there as the smouldering eyes intoxicated him and drew him in. 

“That's why I’m leaving...” he continued, taking in Grantaire's incredulous face as he drew away, speaking in whispered urgency as they heard the returning footsteps approaching down the hall outside, “She doesn't deserve you, you're too good for her. You're better than that. And you're so good to me... and I...” he knew he was rambling but now he’d started he couldn't stop, and he’d already said too much so figured he may as well get it all out there, clear the air, “I don't deserve you either. And I don’t know how much longer I can control myself around you... I just can't do it anymore, keep it all in. It’s better if I just go. It’s easier that way.” 

He turned away as the door reopened, clasping his shaking hands on his knees and leaving Grantaire reeling, sitting in stunned silence for the duration of the interview. 

Eventually, much page turning and signing his name completed, Enjolras was released with a metaphorical slap on the wrist and an order not to do it again, something he certainly couldn't bring himself to promise. 

... 

As for Grantaire, that night left him reeling in ways he never expected for months to come. He'd sat in stunned silence for the duration of the interview, not hearing a word of it, grateful to Enjolras for buying him some time by falling asleep in the car on the way home. Enjolras' revelation had literally come from as far leftfield as was humanly possible in Grantaire's eyes, and he couldn't stop thinking about it, stewing over it, because it was obvious from Enjolras' behaviour in the months that followed that he had zero recollection of what he'd said, of his drunken behaviour, even his arrest. 

Enjolras couldn't remember but Grantaire couldn't forget. 

He was left wondering if it was somehow his fault, if he’d inadvertently done something to encourage it, sending out signals he wasn't aware of. But he knew he was just being paranoid, yet that didn't give him reason enough for it to be so constantly still on his mind all these weeks later. He never spoke of it to anyone, least of all Sylvie. He knew she had no idea about her son’s inclinations, neither of them had, and he didn't interfere when she wanted to know where Enjolras kept disappearing to in the weeks that followed, except to assure her that he had met Montparnasse and dropped Enjolras there himself and he'd be fine. 

Grantaire wasn't sure if that was true, but he couldn't exactly stop him from going, and he actually seemed to settle down a bit, going back to school and attaining his grades without a single phone call from any of his teachers. 

It was noticeable to everyone that he'd reached a real turning point in the weeks leading up to his departure for uni, Grantaire figured it was only for his mum’s sake, to soften the blow, but by default his generally chipper mood found him making an effort with Grantaire too, much to his mum’s delight and Grantaire's horror. 

He now realised how much easier the situation was when he thought he hated him, and completely understood why Enjolras had played it that way. 

For his part, he had no idea how to act around him now, trying his best to maintain his composure and act like nothing was amiss, keeping up appearances was the least he could do to maintain a harmonious household for the first time in months. And despite what Enjolras thought, Grantaire knew that his impending departure was something Sylvie was having a hard time coming to terms with. 

He knew she did have feelings, it was her baby leaving after all, but had kept them buried so deep for so long that she had trouble not only showing them, but knowing when she needed to. So she just didn't. Period. 

It was easier for her to pretend she didn't care than to go through the emotional rollercoaster at the appropriate times when life dealt her a blow. It was her coping mechanism but in Grantaire's eyes it was the worst course of action to take, he could see the effect it had on Enjolras and he wanted things to at least be okay between them before he left. 

But they both seemed keen to carry on the way they were, and he figured they’d been at it for so long that neither of them knew how to show the other any true feeling or emotion. Their blatant inability to change was not something Grantaire even knew how to go about involving himself in, so he took a backseat and just hoped things continued without a hitch, watching and waiting for the inevitable blowout. But it never came. 

It was like Enjolras leaving was a break they both needed from each other, and would hopefully serve to make them both realise the extent they needed the other in their lives. At least Grantaire hoped it would work out that way for them. For Enjolras' sake at least. And although he feared it would be one sided and Enjolras would end up hurt and rejected by his mum all over again, the only turmoil that existed for the time being was in his own head. 

He could see the way Enjolras looked at him sometimes when he thought no one would notice, and everything finally began to fall into place in his mind. He now understood so much more of Enjolras’ previously inexplicable behaviour, not having thought to project his own teenage experiences and emotions around the opposite sex onto his current situation. And now it just all made so much more sense, to the point where he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. 

But Enjolras had been careful, he realised that, and respected his wish for secrecy and ability to keep it under his hat. But the more he found himself dwelling on the subject, the more he couldn't help but wonder at the true status of his time spent with Montparnasse... 

He didn't know why he wondered that, but he found it on his mind quite a lot. As a result, he found himself in turn staring intrigued at an unsuspecting Enjiolras on more than one occasion, and had to pull himself together before he noticed and got the wrong idea. 

Enjolras however, what with trying to act as natural as possible these days, was completely oblivious to that. After waking up the day after his arrest, feeling completely destroyed and a little sheepish, he realised he had no idea what had happened to him. 

He knew, from what he’d been told and had managed to piece together, that he’d been picked up unconscious off the street and spent the night in the cells, and that Grantaire had come to bail him out. 

But apart from that, he had no recollection of any of the events that transpired and was beside himself with paranoia that he had said or done something to put his foot in it. He had decided to actively not pay any attention to Grantaire whatsoever, and although this made it hard for him to gauge Grantaire's reaction to the whole ordeal, he deemed it necessary in order to keep up the charade, and just pretend there was nothing to hide in the first place. 

But little did he know that there was no way Grantaire was about to let slip that piece of information and embarrass the hell out of him. Out of both of them. 

So Enjolras carried on, getting excited for uni despite himself, glad to be leaving the awkward situation at home even though things had improved since he'd decided to go. 

His mum didn't help matters though, it was almost like she was intentionally setting out to make him miserable. She was constantly ‘joking’ about how she can't do this when she’s married or she can't do that anymore, to the extent Enjolras still actually believed that they were engaged and no one realised there was a need to set him straight. Grantaire would've done so in a heartbeat.

And despite everything, he could see that Grantaire was good for her, she was happier than he could ever remember so he was prepared to swallow his own inappropriate desires for her sake, and if that meant making an effort to be normal around Grantaire in front of her then so be it. 

So it was with varying degrees of fake enthusiasm that the day finally came for him to go, the general niceties of the past weeks firmly in place as he was waved off at the gate before boarding his flight. 

He left with the image of Grantaire waving filling his mind’s eye, not failing to notice that despite his general sunny demeanour, he'd been increasingly quiet and contemplative of late, even jumpy and almost nervous on occasion and something within Enjolras told him to be on alert, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. 

But needless to say it was still on his mind when he arrived back some eight weeks later for mid semester break. 

... 

 

It was mid term soon, and then Christmas, and Grantaire knew he had to pull himself together before Enjolras arrived home for the holidays. The entire time he’d been gone, he was constantly on Grantaire's mind. It was completely unintentional, and he didn't want him in there, he really didn’t. 

He refused to let himself wander into inappropriate territory, people were so quick to buy into the misconception that he was his so-called dad already, it just wouldn't do at all to add fuel to the fire. 

It made him feel dirty just to have him in his mind at all, knowing what people would think if they ever found out, despite the contents of his thoughts being completely admirable. He was making himself guilty by simply projecting what he imagined to be the opinions of other people upon himself. 

He knew Enjolras was over 18 and he knew he’d obviously already been enjoying an exciting and active sex-life for the past couple of years but that was beside the point. He felt like some kind of deviant. 

But the thing that really sent his mind onto a path of self destruction was the dream. One little dream and he was on a downward spiral of degradation. His conscious mind couldn't cope with the fact that his subconscious had ventured there, into such dangerous territory, and his every waking moment was filled with the terror of what he might find when he went to sleep. 

It had started so innocently. The dream that is. Grantaire had been so sleep deprived in the week leading up to it that upon finding himself actually having the opportunity to sleep, he couldn't. He couldn't relax, almost expecting his beeper to sound at any second, therefore not allowing himself to completely give in to it. 

So needless to say he spent a fitful night tossing and turning in despair. When he finally managed to drop off and find a few fleeting seconds of relief, his peace was shattered so completely, his world turned upside down to the point he knew he’d never recover. 

It had been your common garden variety run of the mill sex dream, the type of dream that actually involved your real life partner, nothing special, your horniness manifesting itself in other ways when the real thing wasn't readily available. He was used to that, rutting up against the sheet like some deprived teen. 

But what he wasn't used to was hammering away from behind as so often before, only to flip the wanton body beneath him over to find an unexpected face staring back at him. A face of someone he never expected to see there, that he never should see there. To find he was fucking his girlfriend’s son. 

At first he hadn't realised what he was seeing, those familiar blue eyes staring back at him, so similar to those of his mother, and his dream self didn't seem to notice or care either, carrying on banging away as if there wasn't a problem in the world. But the second that face penetrated his consciousness, he jumped up off the bed as if it had been happening for real, staring at the empty space like he really expected to find Enjolras lying there wondering why he’d stopped. 

He shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind, mortified with himself, disgusted. He felt dirty, he felt sick, confused, scared. What was wrong with him? What made his mind play that out in such vivid detail? 

Why? 

What. The. Fuck.

So after that, just the knowledge that the real, solid human version of his dream would be sharing the house for the next few days was enough to send Grantaire into a complete panic. He was supposed to pick him up from the airport himself, and had no idea how he was expected to keep his composure for that let alone sitting through dinner and making nice, playing happy families whilst trying to act innocent. To act normal. He didn't know if he could do it. He really had to admit, his admiration for Enjolrass ability to hide himself so successfully had risen significantly in recent weeks... 

The fact that he'd even had that dream had caused such emotional turmoil within him, questioning his own sexuality, his sanity, unsure what to make of it all. He figured that it had only happened because it was all at the forefront of his mind... at least that's what he tried to tell himself. And he had been quite convinced. He really had. Until he saw him again. 

The second his bleached white hair appeared through the throng he recognised him instantly, despite the addition of a red streak instead of the black, much like Montparnasse’s, and he felt himself freeze completely.  
He looked away, pretending to read the arrivals on the screen and waited for Enjolras to spot him in the crowd around the arrivals gate. 

Enjolras had said he’d get the tube home, but Sylvie had as usual volunteered Grantaire for the job and as usual he had only protested fleetingly before Sylvie had insisted, naturally being at work herself at the designated time. And Grantaire didn't complain. As usual. He was used to it now. 

But this time, a small part of him wanted to be alone with Enjolras, as much as he was also terrified of that exact same thing... he wanted to see if Enjolras could tell that he knew, could tell what had been in his mind, to see if Enjolras had changed, if he still felt the same. 

And he didn't know why he wanted to know that, or how he felt about finding it out... whatever the answer was. 

But as it transpired, nothing was noticed, or if it was, nothing was said, and that was pretty much how it remained the entire time Enjolras was home. 

Grantaire couldn’t deny he felt incredibly awkward, more so as the frequency of the dream increased against his wishes, but he settled into an uncomfortable silence which he managed to maintain for almost the full four days, citing tiredness and overwork, valid excuses in anyone’s book but Grantaire barely bought it himself. He noticed Enjolras looking at him strangely a number of times, but always managed to act completely oblivious and carry on as normal despite his internal struggle. 

He was finding it increasingly harder to not talk to him, to not look at him, and although the time seemed to drag and fly by in equal measures, he seemed to have changed so much in only six months. He seemed older, he’d grown up, the 5o’clock shadow was ever present and he had a worldly way about him that hadn't been there before. 

Grantaire couldn't help his mind wondering into dangerous territory, imagining the kinds of experiences Enjolras had had while he'd been away that had shaped the man he'd so suddenly become. Or maybe it just seemed sudden, because Grantaire had only just noticed? 

So much had happened in the year and a half he’d known him, yet so much of that time had been spent avoiding each other that he knew he didn't really know him at all. He was eighteen, a man in many ways yet still a child in most people’s book, the child of his partner, the woman who assumed she would become his future wife. 

Although he was pretty sure that would never be the case, despite what she insisted upon telling everyone at work. But that only served to put him off the idea even more. He didn't mean to string her along, just with both their jobs so full on it was sometimes easier to just have someone there, have someone around without any hassle. He had to admit he sometimes wondered why he stayed. 

But when he looked at Enjolras he knew why. And he didn't know how he felt about that. 

 

..................................................  
..................................................


	4. The Old Fashioned Well Raised Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He constantly replayed the scenario at the kerbside over and over in his mind, overanalysing every single last detail...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to everyone for the lovely comments and kudos, much much love to everyone for reading!

...

Although he couldn't deny he’d been acting strange the entire time he was home, just seeing Grantaire again served to remind Enjolras exactly why he fell in love with him in the first place. He was just so stunningly gorgeous, even though he wasn't aware of it himself, and so generous and considerate in everything he did. Not to mention his dedication to his job and the fact he even had the ability to do it, to cope with the ridiculous amount of stress that went with the territory of A&E doctor, it was incredible. 

_He_ was incredible and Enjolras was back in just as deep as before he left in the first place. It was even worse now he didn't have the distraction of Montparnasse to take his mind off of him, and he occupied his every waking thought. 

As it drew nearer to his departure, Grantaire offered to drive him to the airport again. It was incredibly weird, obviously prompted by Sylvie but Grantaire seemed genuinely happy when he agreed, despite the fact that Enjolras barely acknowledged his presence, acting bored and nonchalant, completely without emotion and doing his best to conceal his excitement. 

His heart however was pounding wildly in his chest, so loud he was sure Grantaire could hear it as he smiled at the acceptance and wandered into the kitchen. Enjolras sighed dramatically, watching him unashamedly, blatantly staring as he stood with his back to him making lunch. 

He’d caught him looking at him strangely a few times since he'd been home, and he couldn't help but feel overly paranoid, and wondered what Grantaire knew, or at least suspected... and it filled him with dread that he may have been careless and let something slip, but no matter how many times he wracked his brains he couldn't think of a single instance that would have given him away. Maybe it was just all in his head. 

Regardless, he went back to uni with Grantaire fresh on his mind and in his most erotic thoughts, which wasn't likely to change any time soon. 

Little did he know that Grantaire was returning his feelings with more conviction with every passing day. He had no idea that the whole way to the airport Grantaire was driving himself crazy wondering what would happen if he just yanked Enjolras' iPod out of his ears and told him he _knew_. 

He didn’t notice the look on Grantaire's face as soon as he turned to get out of the car, or Grantaire very nearly reaching for his arm. He was oblivious when he looked back over his shoulder as he slammed the boot shut and swung his bag up onto his shoulder, he didn't know that the words in Grantaire’s mouth died on his tongue, that as he stepped up onto the kerb, how close Grantaire was to calling him back, 

“Wait!” 

Enjolras stepped forward, his heart pounding, leaning down onto the car door with both arms as he regarded him inquisitively, 

“You forgot... this...” Grantaire rummaged on the floor for the bag of sandwiches he’d made to take to work, stretching across the car to hand them through the open window. 

Enjolras' eyes went wide as he accepted the bag, having previously assumed it was Grantaire's own lunch, 

“Thanks...” 

“Can't have you going hungry now...” 

“You sound like my mum...” Enjolras quipped light-heartedly, then recoiled in horror as the ramifications of that sank in, of what could be inferred in that, that Grantaire had become a parent to him. That was a thought that he never wanted to have, that he refused to accept would ever really happen, “Well maybe not my mum," he added, not sure why he felt the need to clarify, "She would never say anything like that...” he trailed off, his attempt at covering only serving to make him feel worse, and he noticed the pity in the shocked expression on Grantaire's face, telling him all he needed to know about how Grantaire had also interpreted that last statement. That it was true. 

They stared at each other awkwardly, unsure how to proceed until the car behind them honked impatiently and jolted them both back to reality. Enjolras stepped back, Grantaire pulling quickly out of the drop off zone with his stomach churning and without looking back while Enjolras stood watching him disappear, metaphorically kicking himself in despair. 

... 

 

In the month that followed, Grantaire barely had time to think yet he still couldn't stop himself from dwelling on the fucked up mess that was his life. He constantly replayed the scenario at the kerbside over and over in his mind, overanalysing every single last detail from the intonation in Enjolras' voice to the expression on his face that Grantaire couldn't tear his eyes from in the rear view mirror as he drove away. 

Then the day before he was due to collect him from the airport once more, this time for Christmas, something happened that made him forget everything else in his mind completely. Suddenly it was as though his life was no longer his own and he had no control over the situation, people bombarding him with hearty congratulations and warm handshakes left right and centre. He smiled weakly at everyone in confusion the first few times, too busy to ask for an explanation, but nearly stopped breathing in disbelief when someone asked him when Sylvie was due. 

“What?” 

It earned him a few strange looks from the people he had just accepted well wishes from, that it seemed Sylvie had told all and sundry she was expecting before informing him, who it seemed everyone assumed was the father. 

Grantaire himself was in both complete shock and confusion, knowing full well he had barely even seen her in weeks and when their shifts actually allowed them a night together he was still taking precautions to avoid any little... accidents. So he was completely floored and at a loss for words whenever anyone approached him beaming sincerely. Soon it transpired that not only was he to be a father, but also soon to be married. In time for the birth of course. 

By the end of his shift Grantaire was so beside himself with panic and paranoia, that all he wanted was to be alone, to clear his head, collect his thoughts, but also desperate to get home to confront Sylvie about everything she’d apparently been saying. 

... 

 

He arrived home to a house in darkness, Sylvie already having gone to bed as was her usual routine when she started at 6am the following morning, in which case Grantaire would usually have stayed down watching post work crap tv and stuffing his face for a few hours before tiptoeing up to bed at some point in the middle of the night. But there was no time for niceties now as he rushed upstairs, flinging the door open dramatically and fumbling for the light. 

“Is it true?” he bellowed without hesitation, unable to stop the anger and panic rising as he waited for an answer, Sylvie groggily lifting her sleeping mask and blinking into the light with a wan smile, 

“So you heard the good news then?” 

“What the fuck Sylvie?” 

“So what do you think? About time you made an honest woman of me, I've been waiting long enough.” 

Grantaire spluttered in disbelief at what he was hearing, scandalised at her underhanded tactics once more, just like the time she left him on his own to find out about Enjolras, only this was worse, so much worse. She had systematically set out to trap him into a corner, telling all and sundry at work that she was expecting and that they were getting _married_ , probably assuming he wouldn't deny it if confronted with it after the fact, rather than actually sitting down and talking about it beforehand. Before he had a chance to make the decision to opt out. Which she probably suspected he would. So this way, taking Grantaire to be the old fashioned well raised boy he was, she thought she took that choice right out of his hands. 

But Grantaire didn't understand it, he’d been so careful, and they hadn't even been together in weeks. His mind reeled as his eyes focussed on a pile of wedding magazines on the bedside table, and he realised she had expected a happy homecoming celebration of them in bed looking over them together, making plans. 

He was horrified, realising with certainty, absolute instant clarity, that he didn't want to be in that position and hated that he’d been trapped. Grantaire was raised to do the right thing, but what is really right in a situation like that? Plus his morals were in the middle of an internal conflict of their own, not wanting a child brought into the world under such false pretences, and not only that, but Enjolras. 

His mind flashed back to the night in the police cells, Enjolras drunkenly throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him hungrily, more passion in that one moment than he’d experienced in almost two years of relationship with Sylvie. He realised that now. 

She was all about how she appeared on the surface, everyone at work thought she was a bright and bubbly, life of the party kinda gal, but she was good at keeping up appearances, seeming to think she had to be something she wasn't, thinking she needed to lure people into a trap under false pretences in order for them to do what she ultimately wanted. 

Which naturally ended up, more often than not, in the end result being the opposite of what she wanted because she couldn't bring herself to be honest from the start, resorting instead to cold, calculating tactics because she was scared being honest would seem too clingy, push men away, when that always ended up being the outcome regardless of how she went about it. Talk about self esteem issues.

The thought of Enjolras and how he’d feel about all this spurred Grantaire on. 

“Are you for real? You seriously expected me to be happy about this? What the fuck Sylvie! You’ve made a complete fool out of me at work!” 

As Sylvie protested her innocence, both were unaware of Enjolras exiting a cab with some trepidation outside. He was home for Christmas, and no longer familiar with either his mum or Grantaire's shift patterns, and not knowing who to expect inside, he was careful to keep as quiet as possible as he entered the house, not wanting to wake anyone at such a late hour. He knew he wasn't expected until the following day but his original plans had fallen through so here he was, but almost the second he stepped foot inside the door he heard raised voices floating down the stairs. 

“I don't understand how it could've happened, we were always so careful...” 

“Yeah actually, about that, is there something wrong with you?! I’m beginning to think you just don't want me! Or this baby! Why won't you marry me Grantaire?” 

“What?! Sylvie, how can you even ask me that? THIS is why! You said you were on the pill! You told me...” 

“Oh please,” she scoffed, “What’s wrong with you?” 

“I didn't want an accident to happen!” 

“An accident? What are we? 12?” 

“You know what I mean!” 

“Well guess what Grantaire, an accident happened. Deal with it.” 

“Deal with it? I don't want to deal with anything like this!” 

“So you don't want me? Is that it?" 

_Oh for fucks sake,_ Grantaire was in no mood for her mind games, "Sylvie, stop. I don't appreciate being tricked like this."

"What exactly is so bad about having a child with me?” 

Grantaire spluttered, did she really want a list? “I'm not ready for a child Sylvie. Not with you, not with anyone. You know that.” 

“What about Enjolras?” 

“That's different...” 

“Because you can give him back? Because he's not yours so you don't have to stick around forever is that it? Well lucky he hates you then isn’t it! You're free from all obligation there Grantaire, don't you worry about that!” 

“I meant because he's not a fucking kid anymore Sylvie. Or hadn't you noticed? When was the last time you even spoke to him?” 

Enjolras could hear Sylvie change tack, and the pleading begin, he was familiar with the scenario, but the words this time left him reeling, 

“He's a handful I know that much, he’s just like his father, he was a cad, no ambition, not like you Grantaire. I've done everything I can for him, there’s just no helping some people. But if we had this baby, you and I, it wouldn't be like that, it wouldn't have the same bad blood in it, not all kids are as troublesome as Enjolras, you know? It’ll have your temperament, your brains, your beautiful face!” 

Grantaire was shocked into silent disbelief. “Well, sounds like you’ve got it all worked out!” he laughed almost hysterically, incredulous, “Sylvie, can you even hear what you’re saying?" 

"You know it's true!"

"It's really not." He shook his head sadly, "He needs you. He needs you to love him. That's all he's ever wanted from you."

"He's a distraction. I needed to move on, forget the past. But he's a constant reminder of my bad decisions when I was too young to know better. Every time I look at him I see his father. But everything he does, reminds me... of me."

"And that makes it ok, does it? To treat him like he doesn't exist?" Grantaire took a deep breath, trying to rein his fury in, "But besides all that, you can't just dump things like this on people! These are things you need to talk about, plan, it’s a big fucking deal! How could you let me find out like that? At work? That's unforgivable! Did you really think I’d just laugh it off and we’d be playing happy families right now? Really?" He laughed at the sheer audacity of it all, "Oh, and for the record, the reason Enjolras is the way he is, is because of you. You haven't even given him a chance. You’ve already made your mind up about him, so he plays up to it, because it's what he knows you expect, because of how you treat him! I know it, I've seen it with my own eyes and he doesn't deserve it. I don't want to give you the opportunity to do that to another kid, to a child of mine.” 

“So you don't want to be with me is that it? Is that what you're saying? Is that why you won't marry me?” 

“You need to stop with this marriage bollocks! I never fucking asked you!” 

“That’s exactly my point! Why not? Why? What’s wrong with you?” 

“What's wrong with me? There's a lot wrong with me. I'm fully aware of that. But you're not even listening to a word I’ve said.” 

“You don't get it do you Grantaire? This will tie you to me forever.” 

Grantaire stared at her in silence, in disbelief, unsure how to proceed, a million words running around his head. So she admits it? That it really was her plan all along? Why? Why him? 

How could he have been so stupid? 

He turned, making for the door, his legs operating of their own accord, he just had to get out of there, 

“Where are you going? Grantaire!” 

Enjolras was frozen in the doorway to his room as he digested Sylvie’s words, he had stopped dead in his tracks as he heard his name, and now Grantaire stopped dead in his as he emerged and saw him standing there, his eyes bright with tears. 

“Let's get outta here,” 

Grantaire continued walking as he heard Sylvie scramble out of bed, running naked up behind him, face screwed up ready to lay into him once more, but dropping the instant she saw Enjolras there in the darkness. He in turn ignored her completely, following Grantaire downstairs without looking back as Sylvie screamed after them. 

They walked in silence, Enjolras following Grantaire outside without hesitation and they got in the car, just sitting for a few minutes in disbelief at what just happened. Finally, Grantaire turned to him and sighed, shaking his head and revving the engine, Enjolras whispering as they tore round the corner,

“Why are you still here? Why are you even with her Grantaire?” 

Grantaire was quiet, unsure how to respond, questioning himself in order to answer, then driving silently as he wondered whether or not to say anything at all, wondering how to answer, 

“For you,” he ventured quietly, “I stay for you.” 

Enjolras’ heart stopped beating, it had jumped so far up into his throat that he didn't even know if it would ever work properly again, because what Grantaire had just said shocked him completely to his core, and so completely owned him, owned his very soul. He was still reeling as Grantaire continued, oblivious to the reaction he’d inadvertently caused. 

“I've seen what it’s like for you there Enjolras, how she treats you, I can't just leave...” 

“I can't go back there, she doesn't want me there, I'm just in the way...” 

“You’re not...” 

“I heard what she said.” 

Grantaire’s heart sank and he sighed again, that being the last thing he wanted yet had already suspected, and he had no idea what to say. He pulled off the road at the earliest opportunity, parking up in front of a small all night greasy spoon and they sat quietly for a few moments before traipsing inside, neither feeling inclined towards conversation of any kind. 

“Hungry?” 

“Sure.” 

They each nursed a bottomless cup of tea for an hour or two, and polished off the best part of a jumbo fry up each, both drowning their sorrows in a sense, both with no idea of where to go from here. Grantaire understood that Enjolras' rejection must be paramount, and couldn't even begin to imagine how he must be feeling despite his unfazed facade. It was one thing feeling your mum was too busy or too tired and never made time for you, but to hear it essentially confirmed straight from her mouth, Grantaire was mortified that Enjolras had to witness that, no one should ever have to hear their own mother outright regret their existence. 

He stood, mind already made up about how he would at least begin to make amends, “Ready? Let’s make a move.” 

Enjolras looked up at the softly spoken words, anguish filling his eyes at the prospect of returning home to face his mother any time soon. He hadn't even thought about what he'd do when the time came, and the fact it was happening already filled him with despair. 

“I... I think I’ll just stay here a bit longer...” 

“Okay.” Grantaire sat back down, prepared to wait if Enjolras wasn’t ready, but seeing the confusion on his face as he sat and the panic in his eye at the mere mention of leaving, he realised Enjolras had misunderstood his intention, 

“Hey...” he leant forward, one finger gently prising Enjolras' chin off of his chest until he looked up, meeting his eye warily, 

“What?” 

“I’m not taking you back there, don't worry. You can crash at my place.” 

Enjolras stared at him transfixed, eyes bright with unshed tears at the sort of kindness he was unaccustomed to receiving, his natural instincts instantly rejecting the offer so as not to make a nuisance of himself, Grantaire was the last person he wanted to be a burden to, and Grantaire could almost visibly see the walls being built back up before his very eyes.

“It’s okay,” Enjolras found his mouth saying, “I don't need your charity.” 

He definitely didn't mean it to come out the way it sounded and he stood, ready to just walk out the door in embarrassment at coming across as so ungrateful. 

“Don't be stupid it's not charity, get in the car.” 

“Seriously, I’ll be fine...” he started to walk away, but Grantaire grabbed his arm and persisted, 

“Enjolras, please, let me do this, it’s the least I can fucking do after that low down stunt your mum pulled, let me help you, I owe you,” 

Enjolras gradually began to stare at him in confusion as he talked, after initially being unable to meet his eye with the feel of his hand on his arm, burning into his skin, goosebumps tingling up his spine and electricity shooting all throughout his body, 

“You don't owe me anything,” he stated sincerely, shrugging his hand off and getting in the car before he combusted on the spot and Grantaire changed his mind. 

As they drove through the city towards Grantaire's apartment, Enjolras rested his head against the window, the cool glass soothing his turbulent mind, but the one burning question wouldn't rest until he knew for sure, 

“So is she really pregnant this time or what?” he ventured quietly, almost scared to ask in case he upset Grantaire further, 

“What do you mean ‘this time’?” 

“Well er...” Enjolras was thrown by the eagerness in Grantaire’s voice, 

“You think she’s not? Seriously? Me too... At least, it can't possibly be mine...” 

“Really?" Enjolras looked at him sharply, _I certainly fucking hope not,_ "Well, yeah. Look Grantaire, I'm sorry to say this but it’s not like it’s the first time she’s done it, I've almost been a big brother at least ten times already,” 

“Almost?” 

“Well yeah...” 

They drove the rest of the way in silence and by the time they got to Grantaire's on the other side of town it was close to 4am, so Grantaire had settled Enjolras in, showed him to his spare room and set him up with all the remotes he’d ever need in front of the tv, leaving him to eat or sleep or watch bad movies as the need took him. He went around to see Sylvie before her shift to try and persuade her to apologise to Enjolras, but she refused. It looked like she’d pulled an all-nighter of her own, only wallowing in more than just coffee like Grantaire had. 

She was actually accusing him of tricking her into saying all those things and told him it was all his fault, he was already a shit father to her unborn child, all he had to do was just go with it, how hard is it to be accepting, but he couldn't even do that for her, he was just like all the others. 

Grantaire informed her that he was aware of her antics with all the others after a very interesting chat with Enjolras the night before, and she paled visibly at this new information, obviously shocked they’d even spoken, never expecting them to share stories let alone for Enjolras to stay the night. 

“Well where did you expect him to go? He couldn't come back here!” 

“Why not? He always has before!” 

“Why would he ever want to after what you said! He’s never had anywhere else to go before.” 

“He's my son not yours!” 

“Try acting like it then!” 

Grantaire stormed out after that, feeling he failed on Enjolras' behalf to make amends, returning home to find him still asleep in the guest room, deciding he didn't need to know about this further development in case it just upset him all over again. 

But the day after that, they received the invitation to Christmas dinner, and it was apparent on all fronts that Sylvie had finally come to her senses and was trying desperately to make things, if not right, it was at least an attempt to smooth them over. 

It was another few days away yet, and in the meantime Grantaire was happy to let Enjolras stay and have some space, Enjolras was happy hiding away there in Grantaire's tidy and trendy little place. It gave him an insight into the man he barely knew, but so desperately wanted to, and he busied himself listening to his music, reading his books and watching his movies while he was at work. One time, after a few days of refraining, he could no longer resist the temptation and slowly pushed open Grantaire's bedroom door, peering inside with wide eyes as he hesitantly poked his head around to survey the room. 

It was smart and modern, sleek interior design like the rest of the house yet a specific, personal feel about it. There were still paintings on the wall, but the ones in his room felt different, looked different, they were portraits, hanging alongside block mounted film posters and framed 78 record LP album covers. His eyes roamed over the photos propped up on top of the mantelpiece, photos of Grantaire with different groups of happy, laughing people, all of whom bore him a strong resemblance, and shared faces with the people in the paintings. He idly wondered if Grantaire painted them.

He opened the wardrobe, fingers lightly trailing over the soft fabrics therein and inhaling his masculine scent. He stared longingly at his bed, the covers expensive, slightly rumpled where he’d lay alone on one side and thrown them over when he got up. It was wrong and Enjolras knew it, but he couldn't stop himself, though he stopped short of sniffing his underwear and sleeping with his tshirts on, he still felt like he was prying uninvited into a part of Grantaire's life he would never know, but was secretly pleased to have stolen a glimpse of. 

 

...

 

To say Christmas dinner was a sombre affair was an understatement...

When the day itself finally arrived, Enjolras had given up trying to find excuses not to go. At one point the day before he’d even packed his bag and set off to town while Grantaire was at work, getting as far as the Heathrow Express when Grantaire rang him, asking if he fancied curry or thai for dinner. He couldn't just leave when Grantaire was being so good to him, he owed it to Grantaire to go, if not to Sylvie. 

So he just hoped to hell everything would go without a hitch and he wouldn't have to participate in any actual conversation. He fully intended to pull out the old sullen moody teen routine and use it to full effect, quite the opposite to how he’d been whilst in Grantaire's company the past few days. 

It was a revelation to Grantaire to see him like that, he’d grown accustomed to his incessant banter, they’d had more conversation in the past few days than in the whole time they’d known each other, and they both knew it and made the most of it, neither sure what was going to happen next so embraced it to full effect while they had the opportunity. 

So to see Enjolras revert to his old self at Christmas broke Grantaire's heart, even though he’d had an inkling it was coming. He made sure to let Sylvie know that they were staying at Grantaire’s until Enjolras went back to uni, so as not to put him under any added pressure to cave in to her pleading gazes and forgive her before he was ready. 

They were however, forced to stay the night, what with Grantaire getting called in to the A&E late in the evening and coming back too exhausted to drive again. Enjolras came downstairs for a drink and found him crashed out on the sofa in the middle of the night, feeling ridiculously pleased that he hadn't gone upstairs to join Sylvie in bed. He covered him with his own duvet and stood watching him for ages as he nursed his water, finally curling up on the couch opposite just to be near him. 

It was Grantaire who awoke first the following morning, his heart pounding faster in his chest at the sight of Enjolras asleep right there like that. Returning the favour, he covered him with the duvet and put the coffee on to brew, inhaling what was left of the christmas chocolates sitting tempting him on the kitchen bench-top as he waited for it to boil. He leant back against the counter with his freshly steaming mug, sipping in deep contemplation as his imagination fought for dominance with his morals, the internal struggle threatening to overspill and it was far too much to deal with so early in the morning. 

His commonsense was telling him to back the fuck off and leave well enough alone, but his eyes were disobeying him, unable to stop following the curve of his leg under the covers, the sight of his tshirt risen slightly up his belly as he lay, revealing a hint of soft tan skin and taut abdomen. 

His eyes followed the rise and fall of his chest, coming to rest on the serene face so rarely on display, the long lashes splayed above sleep flushed cheekbone. There was no doubt he was beautiful, but more than that, he really felt he'd finally got to know the real Enjolras so well over the past few days that he didn't want to back off. Quite the opposite really. And that terrified him quite frankly, the mere thought alone that he felt like that, and he didn't know what to do. 

He was brought back to reality by the sound of Sylvie moving around upstairs, and he quickly set out two fresh cups, putting the croissants he procured from work in the oven and moving to sit back down on the sofa, trying to look as innocent as possible and flicking the tv on quietly. 

He had to be back at the hospital later that night and really wanted to head home and shower, get a fresh change of clothes and possibly a few more hours kip. But he figured he’d let Enjolras sleep for now, and ask him what he wanted to do when he woke up. The last thing he wanted was for him to think he’d been deserted, left there to face his mum in the morning on his own. 

When Sylvie came down, announcing she’d already been called in to work and was ready to go, she found them side by side on the couch devouring croissants stuffed with leftovers of christmas ham, laughing at Blackadder’s Christmas Carol. The sight made her smile, thinking that perhaps finally, at last, she maybe had a chance at the family she’d always craved.


	5. See Through With Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras couldn't deny it had been on his mind but he was too scared to say anything, to ask, in case he was given an answer he didn’t want to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaaaaand just realised I'd forgotten to post this chapter, thankyou to the people who kicked my arse about it and reminded/hounded me haha, sorry! I hope it's worth the wait now, eep!!

_______________

end.  
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Enjolras’ last day at home was looming up in front of them, and Grantaire grew ever nervous, yet he didn't know why. Things hadn't yet been resolved with Sylvie and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to fix them at all, what she did only serving to cement his convictions that bit further, make him even less inclined to placate her when he was more concerned that Enjolras was hurting. 

He came downstairs in his little apartment on the final morning, a sense of urgency coming over him when he saw Enjolras' bags already packed and ready by the front door. He found him already dressed in front of the tv, stuffing his face with CocoPops and laughing at something on the screen. He had his back to Grantaire and didn't hear him approach, nearly jumping out of his skin when he got up to refill his bowl. 

“Fuck! I didn't even hear you come in! Scared the shit out of me!” Though if truth be told, he wasn't sure if that was the real reason his heart was beating faster or if it was the sight of Grantaire in his boxers and an old white tshirt that was practically see through with wear... 

Grantaire chuckled as he walked past into the kitchen, watching him from the corner of his eye as they both went about their breakfast routine in the confined space. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice at first that Enjolras was regarding him seriously from across the room, leaning back against the kitchen counter and quietly munching his toast, he almost did a double take when he realised, 

“What?” he paused, feeling his cheeks flush at the scrutiny, 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah... why wouldn't I be?” 

Enjolras shrugged, “I dunno, you're just quiet is all...” 

“Am I?” Grantaire paused mid air as he buttered his toast, looking at him in surprise, “Sorry man, it’s not intentional, it’s not you...” even though it was really, “I've got a lot on my mind...” he finished lamely, eyes firmly on his toast that he’d now buttered into oblivion and almost beyond recognition, 

“Yeah...” _I know the feeling..._ Enjolras thought bitterly, eyes travelling up from Grantaire's bare feet to the curve of his thigh, trying to imagine what lay beneath the flimsy fabric, trying to capture the image to store in his mind for later usage in case he never got to see Grantaire again. Which was something he was growing increasingly concerned about, what if he and his mother never reconciled, what excuse would he have to ever see him? Especially after pretending to hate him for so long, it’s not as if they were renowned for being buddies and hanging out. Until now... Enjolras couldn't deny it had been on his mind but he was too scared to say anything, to ask, in case he was given an answer he didn’t want to hear. 

Because the only other option, surely, was Grantaire sticking around and doing ”the right thing” by his mum, if she really was pregnant after all that is, which surely would include marrying her. Wouldn't it? Enjolras didn't think he could deal with that. At all. Not now not ever. Yet he still couldn't muster up the courage to ask what was going to happen. 

Neither of them realised they’d lapsed into silence, deep in their own thoughts about the other, until they both looked up at the same time, meeting each other’s eye. 

“Do you need a lift to the airport?” Grantaire found himself asking, much to his own surprise as well as Enjolras’, but Enjolras misinterpreted Grantaire’s desire to prolong the visit as a hint to make himself scarce, figuring he wanted his own space back to gather his thoughts and decide what to do about Sylvie. 

“No, I’m good, I’ll just uh, you know, go into town, get the train...” 

Enjolras was too devastated to notice the look of rejection pass over Grantaire’s face, and he went to walk by to rinse his mug and clear up his mess. Grantaire watched him forlornly, insisting he didn't need to bother, desperation rising in him as Enjolras passed so close by yet again, already heading for the stairs and his things. 

“Enjolras wait!” He grabbed hold of his arm as he followed behind, “You’re going already?” 

“Well, yeah...” Enjolras paused, about to slip his foot into his battered old chequered Vans, eyes darting down to Grantaire's hand still on his arm, fearing it was about to end badly, “I thought...” 

“I’ll miss you.” 

Enjolras’ mouth was open, devoid of all words but his eyes said it all for him, _’huh_?’ widening further as Grantaire continued, 

“I don't want you to go.” 

_’What the fuck?’_ Enjolras was incapable of anything, blood rushing around his ears and roaring into his brain, rendering him speechless and unsure if he was really hearing these words being said to him or if he was actually still asleep enjoying one of his many vivid dreams in which Grantaire said things like that to him all the time... 

“I mean I know you have to go back to uni and everything but, things, you know, I don't want it to end like this between us, with you, I mean, fuck, I don't know what I mean...” he paused, sighing wearily as he realised he was rambling, infuriated with himself for losing his composure, “Let me drive you, it’s the least I can do...” 

Was he for real? Enjolras was literally flabbergasted, words beyond him as he just stared, the words from his dreams becoming reality right in front of him, he shrugged, “Um...okay...” he whispered, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, eyes still drawn down to Grantaire's fingers now softly circling his arm, 

“Enjolras... I,” he paused, unsure whether to continue and why he even started, but it had consumed him for long enough and he just couldn't stop, “I _know_.” 

_What?_

_WHAT?_

Enjolras' eyes, still fixated on Grantaire's long fingers, shot back up and widened in horror at the implication of those words, he took a step back, shaking his head and tearing his arm free, 

“Do you... wait, please!” Grantaire followed as he backed himself up against the lounge room door, beseeching him earnestly, reaching forwards once more, “Do you still feel the same?” 

“Grantaire I'm sorry...” Enjolras was close to tears, his secret that he thought he’d hidden so well, for so long, wasn't a secret at all, 

“I need to know, please Enjolras...” 

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he gulped back the lump threatening to fill his throat, “I didn’t mean to...” 

But he didn't manage another word in explanation before Grantaire’s lips were upon his, taking his breath away, soft and gentle, hesitant, questioning, asking permission, then harder, needy, desperate, kissing the life out of him, hands not sure where to be before gently cupping both cheeks with his large palms, shaking slightly as his thumb stroked across the flushed cheekbone in disbelief at his own actions. 

Enjolras froze, going rigid then limp in his arms, then seeming to come back to life he pushed him away in shock and complete disbelief. 

“Grantaire... what the fuck...” he managed to gasp, he could barely speak but Grantaire interrupted him yet again, 

“Sorry... I'm so sorry... I just...” he stepped back, raking his hands over his hair in disbelief at what he’d just done, “That was so out of order, I can't believe I just did that, I know it's no excuse but I just had to know... I couldn't stop thinking about it, about you... it’s been consuming me for... for, for months...” 

“Months?!" Enjolras was wracking his brains to think of how and when he gave the game away, "How long have you known?”

“Ages... since the police station. I'm so sorry, I just had to know for sure, if it was real or in my head...” 

But this time it was Enjolras who interrupted, pushing Grantaire back against the wall opposite as he dived for his mouth, kissing him back with such ferocity, such desire coming to life in him that they both collapsed to the floor with the effort. Enjolras climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and seizing his face between his palms just as Grantaire had done to him moments before, attacking his lips with ardent fervour until they both could breathe no more. 

Pulling back to draw breath, panting heavily, Enjolras dared to look him in the eye to gauge his reaction, 

“That real enough for you?” 

Grantaire could only nod in response, his mouth opening and closing yet unable to form words, struggling to catch up with the racing in his brain before Enjolras was on him again, undoing his own belt and grinding his arse down hard against Grantaire’s evident interest. 

Lips still attached feverishly between words, Enjolras panted into his mouth, “I was going to ask if you’re sure about this... but then I... well,” he ground his hips down for emphasis and Grantaire groaned at the friction building up between them, Enjolras' lips swallowing his moans as his eyes fluttered closed with no prompting, everything now beyond his control. 

It was Enjolras who took the lead in the frenzy that followed, his previous experience instinctively guiding their movements, bodies sliding together, Grantaire was barely aware of what either of them were doing, it was all happening so fast. Before he even knew it he was thrusting upwards, unable to control his own actions, faculties rendered redundant as his hips sought out more of the intense heat engulfing him. 

Enjolras was a vision above him, fingers splayed across Grantaire's chest, digging in hard as he fully seated himself, their eyes locked intensely together. Biting his bottom lip seductively between his teeth, he growled deep in his throat, leaning forward to hungrily devour Grantaire’s eager mouth as he sat watching, mesmerised, lips slack with anticipation. Slowly rocking his hips back and forth, clenching his muscles tightly each time he rose, Enjolras lowered himself with steady force, applying pressure with an explicit slap of skin on skin, faster and faster each time, until wide eyed he cried out, instantly increasing the speed of his movement, eyes closed and head thrown back, lips parting enticingly as he gasped. Grantaire's eyes honed in on the enticing expanse of his neck, of skin now exposed, and he lunged, mouth latching on and relishing the contact. Hands were everywhere, clutching desperately wherever they could reach, Enjolras' fingers now clasping handfuls of Grantaire's crazily curled bed-hair, arms circling his head and holding him close as he worshipped his neck. Panting heavily, Enjolras hurriedly discarded Grantaire's tshirt followed by his own, arms stretched above his head, chest flushed. Grantaire licked his lips unconsciously as he stared, unable to stop his eyes from roaming, taking in every detail of the heaving torso, slick with sweat, the defined V of his hiplines naturally persuasive, successfully enticing his eyes down further to where their bodies joined as they wrapped around each other. 

Nothing in Grantaire’s life had ever been so spontaneous, so instinctive and passionate and mind numbingly intense. And nothing in Enjolras' had ever meant as much. 

Not a word was spoken between them, their mouths full of each other and incomprehensible panting as they brought each other closer to welcome oblivion. It had been such a long time coming for both of them that they hadn't even stopped to think when the opportunity presented itself, jumping headlong into a situation they both were hyper aware was at the precipice of disaster. 

But at the forefront of both their minds was only the knowledge that this was possibly the last time they would ever get to see each other, the last chance they would ever get, the only chance. 

It was now or never. 

And now they had taken that one giant leap over the boundary into no man’s land, neither could quite recover from the unexpected intensity, the sheer mind blowing experience it had proved to be. Lying panting and gasping for air in a tangle of each other’s arms and legs, both were reluctant to move, to break the spell, to make it real might make it end and it was too soon for that for either of them. 

Enjolras' face was pressed firm into the crook of Grantaire's neck, and he inhaled deeply, the delicious scent of Grantaire's skin filling his nostrils. He relished the opportunity to commit every single detail of the moment to memory, expecting it to be the only chance he ever got, to store it all away to replay in his mind over and over again, alone in his bedroom. 

His bedroom. 

Did he even have one anymore? Would he ever want to set foot in his mum’s house ever again. In _his_ house, his own house. Just the thought of that brought him back to reality all too soon and he sniffed, raising his head with a sigh but still reluctant to move, to look into Grantaire's eyes and see any sign of regret there. 

He knew he wouldn't be able to handle that and he couldn't bring himself to look. But as he stirred he could've sworn he felt Grantaire hold him tighter before letting him move, and as he rolled to the side he kept his arms around Grantaire's neck and brought him with him, laying beside him on the floor. Only now did he muster the courage to look into his eyes, wanting to grab hold of the situation with both hands and make it his own, refusing to let go now that all his wildest dreams were a reality. Stuff the consequences. 

But as he looked up, their eyes flashed as they met once more, he didn't see anything that he expected on Grantaire’s face, instead finding himself holding his breath as Grantaire trailed a finger slowly down his cheek, stopping to linger on his lips before taking his hand. Perhaps this wouldn't be the end of them after all, perhaps they could make it happen, could find a way. 

“Remember the first time we met, and I said if you hurt my mum I hurt you?”  
Grantaire was silent, nodding, jolted back to the unwelcome reality and wondering where this was going, 

“I don't even care... if you hurt her I mean...” he bit his lip, “I want you to.” he paused again and they stared into each other’s eyes, both holding their breath until Enjolras continued with a rush, “I don't want you to be with her any more...and fuck I know that makes me a bad person but I really don't care, but... But that's why I can't let you do that to her, even after what she did, even though I _want_ you to... because you know what she’ll say, she'll twist it all around in her favour like she always does, and you know what people will think, everyone will take her side no matter what... not that I plan on telling anyone or announcing it to the world, but I'm not going to put myself through that... put _you_ through that... we can't risk it.” 

Grantaire nodded, his heart sinking, wondering if he’d thrown it all away for nothing,  
“I understand... shit Enjolras, I'm sorry, I should never have said anything...” 

“Grantaire, don’t you get what I'm saying?" At Grantaire's silence he continued, "Fuck, I'm not being very eloquent right now am I. Look, after all this time, there’s no way I’m letting it get in the way of seeing you again. If that's ok...” 

Grantaire looked up, comprehension dawning, seeing the determination on Enjolras' face, the gleam in his eye bringing a small smile to his lips as they decided their fate, sealing their secret, 

“Why did you? Say something I mean, why now, after knowing for all this time?” 

“I've no idea what came over me, I really don't.” He shook his head in wonderment at the stupidity of his own actions, “I guess I, I just... I've been thinking about it for so long, I couldn't let you go like that. Without finding out for sure, you know, if you still felt that way...” 

Enjolras stared at him for a long while, “Well I’m glad you did.” he ventured quietly, “You know I've been dreaming about you saying something like that to me since the first second I laid eyes on you, and I never ever in a million years actually thought you would... I’ll probably wake up in a minute...” 

Grantaire could see he was embarrassed at what he was admitting, and his heart went out to him, “C’mere,” he whispered, pulling him close, just holding him tightly, showing him that no matter what happened next he would always cherish what they had, would always cherish him. 

... 

 

Grantaire did end up driving Enjolras to the airport after all, his mind racing, replaying the last few hours over and over and berating himself for giving in so easily, for making things a million times more difficult for everyone concerned. He didn't want to give Enjolras false hope, but it seemed he was used to sneaking around in covert relationships and secret liaisons wherever and whenever he could, so was happy to continue in a similar vein, knowing the importance of avoiding detection at any cost. 

Immediately after they said their goodbyes, somewhat emotional and sheepish in equal measures, neither knowing if they would ever actually even see each other again, he went round to visit Sylvie in an attempt to smooth things over. 

It was partly out of guilt, as if by doing the right thing by her- if she really was carrying his child- balanced out the sin of _fucking her son_. (Grantaire cringed internally, what had he done, what the fuck had he done?) But mostly, he was going for the sake of his own sanity, he needed to find out the truth once and for all about her current state. 

It turned out she was adamant, despite her vague dates and offended tears of protest that she was even expected to explain herself, wasn't her word good enough etc etc. But Grantaire wasn't fazed by her attempt at emotional blackmail, he was a rational man, needing facts for confirmation, needing evidence for diagnosis, and she couldn't, or wouldn't, provide anything except more tears. 

Grantaire, unsure how to proceed, saw an opening and decided to run with it for the time being, purely for selfish reasons to buy himself time to see how things panned out. He was convinced there was more to it, but had no way of finding out for sure. He didn't want to be a father, definitely not now at any rate, only just having received his full residency at the hospital. He was overworked and undervalued, having enough stress at work without Sylvie contributing, and now, with the further complications of adding Enjolras to the mix, he was overwhelmed in a way he never expected, and didn't know how to combat. 

He was a good man, and his parents raised him to always do the right thing, but now, he really wasn't sure what that was. 

Knowingly raise a child born purely to bribe you? Fully aware you were walking into a trap but going along with it anyway because you were an idiot and some inherent morals within you said it was the lowest of the low to leave an expectant mother, even if she was trying to trick you into a lifetime commitment? 

Or be true to yourself, follow your heart, no matter how unexpected the initiative, the trigger. 

Even if the trigger is your heart wanting to follow your pregnant girlfriend’s eighteen year old son? It was wrong, so fucking wrong, and Grantaire couldn’t believe he was even considering ways around it, trying to validate it. 

His so called girlfriend was allegedly pregnant for fucks sake, and he had to be seen to be doing the right thing. 

Right? 

Follow your head instead of your heart? 

Right? 

People would never forgive him if he didn't support Sylvie, what with the way she went about informing the rest of the world before him, he already had gauged their level of commitment to the whole thing, and everyone was over the moon. 

Everyone except him. 

If truth be told, irrespective of the current despicable turn of events, he’d been growing wary of Sylvie’s melodramatic antics for some time, being witness to her frankly extremely bi-polar opposite personas, the vibrant, bubbly life-of-the-party one on show to the world, and the one she wore as soon as she stepped foot in her front door and was reminded of her own reality. 

Grantaire couldn't deny he was appalled when he first saw how Sylvie treated Enjolras, and still was, if anything even more so after she repeatedly ignored or laughed off his suggestions that perhaps it wasn't conductive to mother and son relations. 

And he’d stuck around initially almost as a personal challenge to restore his wounded pride after Enjolras went so hot and cold on him when they first met, trying to make him like him again, trying to find out what he’d done wrong. 

Then it became a case of playing the good samaritan, finding he actually cared and taking an active interest in him after seeing the treatment he was subjected to from his own mother. 

Then came the revelation in the police cells, and everything changed. 

Grantaire changed. 

His eyes had been opened. 

His opinion of Sylvie only went downhill further from there as his conscious mind was occupied with the biggest struggle it had ever undertaken, his head battling with his heart for dominance until now, finally, almost two years later, his heart made its final move, his head finding it had no choice in the matter. 

And now what? 

He just didn't know. Couldn't even begin to fathom what to do from here. Patching things up with Sylvie for the greater good seemed the only viable option, deliberately deceptive, but the only way his befuddled mind could think to keep tongues from wagging. It would just look too weird if he broke up with Sylvie then her son kept hanging around when they hadn't even been friends before. 

Not to mention the fact that Sylvie had him by the balls so to speak, literally and figuratively, because by spreading the news the way she had, he knew he’d be crucified by his colleagues if he just up and left. If he walked out on her it could have serious repercussions at work and he didn't want to have to go around explaining things and making accusations. She didn't need her reputation sullied, it was all she had going for her, and by saving face he could perhaps salvage the best of a bad situation. 

He set about arranging for the work roster to be always coincidentally in contrast, so he was on nights when Sylvie went onto her dayshift and vice versa. It had mostly been like that anyway for the last few months so Grantaire knew it wouldn't look deliberate, and that was another reason he had his doubts about the validly of any baby supposedly spawned by his own loins. But he decided it was for the best, for the time being at least, if he made an effort at just getting on with things. 

Enjolras meanwhile, was back at university in Paris literally counting the days until the next excuse he had to go back home, he’d had to wait three and a half months for half term to get there and had spent the time distracting himself in every way possible. But this was a new Enjolras, he was a changed man, instead of sleeping his way round campus like he had been previously, being the life and soul of every party (just like his mother,) in an attempt to forget all about Grantaire, now he was the complete opposite. He knuckled down, concentrated on his work, found himself top of his subjects and really strived to make something of himself. 

He wanted to be something, be someone, so that although it was unlikely, if he ever did end up seeing Grantaire again, he’d have become someone that Grantaire could be proud of, proud of knowing, proud of having as his... 

_as his_. 

No, he knew it was highly unlikely, he knew he was dreaming and had no chance in hell of any happy ending out of the gigantic mess they’d fashioned for themselves. He knew that after what happened he probably would never even see Grantaire again. He certainly hadn't heard from him. And he couldn't blame him for not sticking around, who in their right mind would? If it was him he’d have run a million miles, he knew that much for sure, but it still hurt in the pit of his stomach that Grantaire most likely wouldn't be there when he got back. 

But still, he would always have his memories of that morning, the morning that took his breath away and came completely out of the blue. From that alone, Grantaire had given him the confidence to rise above all the shit his mum had dumped on him his whole life and to truly feel he was worth the effort. 

Which in turn, led him to make an effort of his own. You never know, he told himself, one day, years from now, he might bump into Grantaire somewhere, and he wanted to feel that if they had the time to catch up he could fill Grantaire in on the details of his life without feeling inferior, without making Grantaire feel like he was that poor kid who never had a chance, never had it in him. And maybe he’d even be able to muster up the courage to tell him that he’d been responsible for his success, that he’d been his inspiration all along. 

He shook his head as he daydreamed his implausible future meeting with Grantaire, in the street somewhere, or maybe the supermarket, maybe even in the A&E, that’d be weird, being Grantaire’s patient... although he quite liked the sound of that... 

His mind wandered further as he constructed an elaborate scenario in his mind, trudging up the street towards his house after his long flight and subsequent journey on the tube. He wondered if his mum would be home, hoping she wouldn't be so he could continue to, ahem, _indulge_ his little fantasy when he got in. 

“Mum? Hello?” he called out cautiously as he walked through the house, heading straight upstairs when he got no response, cock awakening already in anticipation of what was to come. Daydream Grantaire, looking incredibly authoritative and resplendent in his white coat, stethoscope hanging around his neck and beeper at the ready on his hip, was ready and waiting behind his eyelids as he fell back against the pillows. One hand was already busy freeing the straining bulge in his pants as the other pushed them down below his knees, kicking them to the end of the bed as he slicked himself in readiness for the very thorough examination Dr Grantaire was about to give him behind the curtain in the Emergency Room. 

An hour later, the images were still dancing behind his eyes as he stood at the sink in the kitchen, washing up his dinner dishes lazily, fully consumed by his imaginings. 

He hummed along to his own personal musical accompaniment as his iPod changed tracks, so lost was he in his daydream that he didn't hear the front door open and close loudly behind him, he didn't hear the rustle of plastic bags full of groceries bouncing off the walls or the gasp of surprise behind him as Grantaire turned around, freezing in shock and guilt as he saw him. Still humming away, Enjolras reached behind himself for the last of the pots on the stove, dropping it in his incredulousness as he came face to face with the vision in his mind, flesh and blood there right in front of him. 

The last person he expected to see. He'd stuck around? Really? 

He pulled the headphones from his ears, “What are you _doing_ here?” 

Grantaire opened and closed his mouth, dry and full of his own tongue all of a sudden as he attempted to speak, but before he could get a word in Sylvie appeared, slamming the front door shut and carrying the rest of the groceries over to dump at Enjolras’ feet. 

“Oh, you're here, I forgot that was today. How long are you here? Oh there’s extra blankets in the airing cupboard under the stairs if you need them tonight, I haven't made up your bed. Got your favourite cereal though, Frosties, right?” 

“CocoPops...” 

“That’s it, of course, silly me, be a darling and help Grantaire put these away will you? I’m exhausted, night!” 

She vaguely kissed them both on the cheek and disappeared upstairs, both Enjolras and Grantaire remaining where they were, standing stock still and staring at each other. Despite showing no inclination to put them down, Grantaire's arms were literally shaking with the weight of the bags, the handle of one stretched beyond its limits and finally bursting, its contents spreading themselves out at his feet. 

He looked down, the movement breaking the extreme awkwardness of the moment and he placed them down gingerly on the floor. Enjolras simultaneously bent to pick up the dropped pot, wiping up the mess and unpacking the bags without a word, Grantaire joining him in uncomfortable silence. 

As soon as they were done, Enjolras was seconds away from asking Grantaire if he’d eaten and offering him the tupperware containers of his leftovers, but Grantaire got in first, looking at his watch and declaring himself in a hurry so as not to be late for his nightshift, barely meeting each other’s eyes as Enjolras nodded dismally and Grantaire disappeared as fast as his legs would carry him. 

Fully aware that Grantaire didn't start work for another few hours, Enjolras dejectedly dragged himself back upstairs to bed to wallow in abject misery, unaware that Grantaire was sitting outside in his car, kicking himself for running, appalled at his cowardice and sighing as he saw Enjolras' bedroom light flick on upstairs before finally driving off, wondering how the hell he ever thought this stupid idea could work. 

He went into work early, starting up his computer and sat staring at the screen as it booted up, biting his lip as he typed in Sylvie’s name. 

... 

 

Enjolras felt sick. He was making himself ill with worry, paranoia and anticipation, wondering whether or not Grantaire would turn up there again after his shift the next morning. He was up bright and early, well not up exactly as he’d never successfully managed to go to bed, but he was downstairs as soon as Sylvie left. He was on his third bowl of soggy Frosties four hours later, still trying to look natural and casual on the sofa despite his hope diminishing, before finally giving up and accepting that Grantaire wasn't coming. 

He didn't know what to do. He’d spent all night fretting about what to say to him, if anything at all, how to put him at ease, wondering how Grantaire would act around him with a night to get over his initial shock, managing to get himself more and more paranoid as he played out different reunion scenarios in his head. 

But all in vain, which he had to admit he’d already expected somewhere deep in the back of his mind anyway, he just didn't want to acknowledge it. It had to be this way really, he knew that, Grantaire did too, simple as that. 

His mum clearly hadn't deemed it necessary to warn either of them that the other would be there, and why would she, since things had obviously returned to some semblance of normality after the incident at Christmas. They’d had no contact at all the entire term since then, and Enjolras’ heart sank as he accepted that Grantaire clearly had moved on with his life and hadn't been relishing seeing him again as much as he had. He’d seen the look of abject horror on his face the night before when he’d found him there in the kitchen, sheer mortification. Not that he expected him to welcome him back with open arms with Sylvie two feet behind him, but still, anything would've been better than the intensely awkward silence that followed. 

He couldn't bring himself to stay in the house any longer, rushing back upstairs and showering as quickly as possible, he fled from the house with no idea where his feet were taking him. Anywhere that wasn't there would do, anywhere he could forget, put Grantaire out of his mind. 

...

 

Ten hours later and he’d forgotten alright. He could barely remember his own name as he staggered home, dropping his keys at the front door and cracking his skull open on the doorstep as he bent to pick them up. 

Luckily for him, Sylvie heard the commotion and opened the front door to find him slumped at her feet in a pool of his own blood. 

Eight stitches and one hell of a headache later, he barely felt the large, gentle hands on his forehead, holding his chin still, administering the anaesthetic and stroking his fringe back with comforting reassurance, cupping his cheeks with warm palms as he shone the torch into his eyes one at a time. He regained enough consciousness to watch Grantaire disappearing from view in front of him, the vision in his white coat from his fantasies a reality, but his mind too cloudy to fully appreciate the situation. 

Sylvie was furious, having to forgo her night’s sleep and return to work a full shift almost immediately upon leaving to unceremoniously dump him back home. She left him with strict instructions to stay put and sleep it off, but Enjolras had neither the ability, nor intention of moving any time soon. 

The rest of his week found itself falling into a pattern, making himself scarce when Sylvie was due home, only returning late after dulling his senses at the bottom of a bottle with a night of lonesome misery. 

On his second last night, he surprised her by still being there lounging on the couch when she got home from work, completely intentionally with an ulterior motive, part of him wanting to know the truth about something that had been playing on his mind constantly since the A&E, part of him _needing_ to know, and know _now_... 

He let her potter around for a while doing the things she always did when she just got in, let her settle on the couch opposite him, mug in hand, smile on her face as if to say ‘so to what do I owe this pleasure?’, and that’s when he blew any pretence at happy families out of the water. 

“Who’s Alessandro?” 

Her face went pale, her hand holding the full mug teetering until it rested precariously on the edge of her knee, 

“Who?” 

“Don't play games with me mum,” Enjolras kept his voice even, not giving anything away but her reaction telling him all he needed to know before he dropped his bombshell, “I saw you at the hospital with him. _Together_. In my cubicle no less, when you thought I was off my head. Is he the father? Does Grantaire know?" He asked calmly, in spite of the tremor in his hands as an all encompassing thought occurred to him, "Is that why he’s been AWOL all week?” 

“Enjolras I... Look, he's been, he's been giving you and I some space...” she stuttered, 

“Really? How considerate of him.” 

“Enjolras...” 

“Save it mum, really, don’t bother.” 

She got up and went straight upstairs without a word as he continued, “You’ve let the best one go, you know that right?” and he knew she knew, she was fully aware of what she’d lost with her paranoid precautions. He could hear her sobbing for the next three hours. 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to go out after that, now that his own guilt had lessened somewhat after the discovery of her infidelity, he couldn't stop his mounting excitement, turning his mobile over and over in the palm of his hand as he internally debated which course of action to take. 

And how fucking dare she do that to Grantaire, of all people? 

He felt vindicated, validated, yet despite everything he'd ever had to endure, some part of him, however small, was still concerned about her welfare and how many valium she’d taken. 

So he stayed downstairs, boiled himself up some of the leftover pasta she’d brought home with her and made himself comfortable in front of the tv. He couldn't stop himself, despite everything, feeling rather smug and like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. This way, for some insane reason that he'd never fathom, it was her doing the dirty on Grantaire, it wasn't her being the hard-done-by one, not that it ever really had been, the way Enjolras saw it she brought everything on herself... and maybe now, just maybe... he had a chance. 

He was so wrapped up in his fantasies, standing at the sink all elbows deep in soap suds and pots and pans, mind re-playing the last time he’d been standing there when Grantaire had appeared behind him like a vision from his dreams. He was so preoccupied that he didn't hear the front door quietly open, only freezing stock still when the sound of it creaking as it slipped back into position broke the air. 

His skin prickled, feeling the presence approach from behind him, strong eager arms circling him, warm breath tickling the back of his neck as he melted against the hard body, the low voice rumbling in his ear, nibbling the shell, saying his name. 

Enjolras spun around, shocked but secretly relieved that he wasn't about to be hacked to death by the mysterious Alessandro or some axe wielding maniac. He was indignant at first, his feelings of rejection from the past week rising to the surface and something in him was ready to push Grantaire away at the confrontation, but their bodies were already melting together instinctively and Grantaire's lips were so soft, engulfing him so completely, so entirely owning his body, mind and soul, 

“You came,” he gasped for air, 

“Where is she?” 

“In bed” 

“Are you sure?” 

Enjolras nodded between frantic kisses, “Valium.” 

“Good.” 

“So, you uh, got my message then?” 

“Yeah, I came as quick as I could, I'm on lunch...” 

“At midnight?!” Enjolras smirked into the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent, all anaesthetic and sterilising gel, pure sex, 

“Yeah... I just had to see you before you left.” 

“It’s not til tomorrow...” 

“I know.” 

Enjolras couldn't stop himself from exploding inwardly at the words, hardly daring to ask his next question, not wanting to sound too needy, clingy, “Where have you been?” 

“Freaking out,” 

“Me too,” 

“I couldn't keep away,” Grantaire held his breath, not even capable of looking him in the eye, 

“I thought you were avoiding me...” 

“I was.” He bit his lip between his teeth, breathing deeply as Enjolras regarded him hesitantly, confused, “I couldn't be here with you when she’s expecting me to be avoiding her...” 

“What happened?” 

“She’s not pregnant Enjolras. She never was, you were right. I uh... I accessed her records the other day, I confronted her... I didn't know how to tell you, I was going to wait... then with what you text me tonight, what you saw...” 

“We’re free.” 

“Well, as much as we can be, I guess...” 

Their lips were fused together as if by some undeniable force of nature, Enjolras’ eyes were wide, incredulous at the sudden validity of it all, or not, because everything about the whole situation still screamed _wrong wrong wrong_ , but it was more than he ever hoped for. 

He was expecting Grantaire to be fathering his mother’s child and locking themselves into an inescapable rut of deceit, running around in secret for the foreseeable future, if at all, or at least until Grantaire came to his senses. 

He could feel Grantaire pressing him back against the sink, hands everywhere, and could barely control himself, the knowledge his mum was upstairs and the risk of being caught at any second sending a pulse racing through his body, despite what that could mean for both their futures. 

“Fuck me Daddy, fuck me now...” he panted into Grantaire’s mouth, feeling him gasp at the words before he pulled away, turning himself around and unbuckling his belt, 

“Enjolras don't,” he groaned, pressing his face into the back of his neck, “Please, please don't say that, fuck...” 

“You love it...” 

Smirking, he worked quickly, already lowering his own pants, just enough to reveal the twin taut mounds and smooth skin of his arse, one hand behind himself as he worked Grantaire free, feeling him pulse in his palm as he whispered it again, 

“ _Daddy_...” he breathed throatily, emphasising the word as he unceremoniously eased the thick length into his body with abandon, clenching and unclenching his tight muscles as he drew him further inside until they gasped in unison, 

“So wrong...” 

“Fuck me...” 

The necessity of speed and absolute silence was apparent to both of them as they moved together, Grantaire’s face screwed up in disbelief at what he was doing. But there was no way he could have stopped even if he’d wanted to, his body perfectly fitting against the contours of the one in front of him as their rhythm increased, frantic thrusting culminating in a series of short sharp bursts as they held their collective breath, Grantaire’s large palm covering Enjolras' mouth and his own filled with a mouthful of succulent neck in an effort not to cry out at the sensation, until finally, relinquishing all control, slow deep grinding pressure so intense as to render them senseless drove them closer to the edge one at a time. 

Grantaire, increasing his speed as he felt Enjolras weaken beneath him, found himself holding up a dead weight as the hot, flushed body shuddered uncontrollably in his arms and spurted all over the kitchen cupboards as he violently climaxed, teeth drawing blood as he clamped down on his bottom lip to enforce silence. The incoherent sounds barely registering on the air coupled with the unbearably tight heat clenching so forcefully around his length, drawing him in deeper than he ever thought physically possible, sent Grantaire plummeting into oblivion. 

They sought each other’s mouths over Enjolras' shoulder as they panted, breathing returning to normal. Grantaire gently spun him around to face him once more, capturing his swollen lips, his fingers moving up to embed themselves in Enjolras' hair as his other hand pulled their bodies flush together. 

“Come home with me...” the words had left his mouth before he could stop them, before he had time to even think, but deep down he knew that's why he was really there. He breathed heavily into Enjolras’ mouth as he attacked his lips, holding his breath in anticipation, waiting, “...if you want...” 

Enjolras could hear the hesitance in Grantaire’s voice, and coupled with the underlying plea it caused a tremor of excitement to run through him, despite his own trepidation, he’d already made up his mind, “I never want to come back here.” 

“Lunch break’s over, go to bed, and when you wake up tomorrow morning after work I’ll be waiting...” he bent down a final time to kiss him soundly before turning to head for the door, “If that's what you want, I’ll be here.” 

 

 

.

.

.

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many massive big thankyous to all you lovely peoples out there who have read this, yay! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand I don't even know what to say about this one, apart from the obvious fact I seem to be incapable of writing anything other than morally dubious happy ever afters... Whoops. Damn morally dubious writing challenges taking my fancy, (and corrupting my incorrigible morally dubious brain.) I suppose this is where I say sorry to anyone I need to say sorry to? And I'll add Victor Hugo himself to that list, and e/R as well, sorry boys, I just can't help it, it's really not my fault that you lend yourselves so beautifully to these things... :P


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